


The Phoenix and The Komainu

by onoheiwa



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Character Death, Comfort, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Injury, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Post-War, Romance, Slow Build, Tattoos, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onoheiwa/pseuds/onoheiwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of a war between the neighboring kingdoms Celes and Nihon, Kurogane had been assigned the task of figuring out how to cross the only remaining battleground between the two armies. He had spent days traveling as quietly as could while searching for a safe path across the demolished town square, trying to avoid detection by enemy soldiers. So far all he had found was a nuisance in the form of of bright blond hair, a cheeky smile, and eyes more beautiful than the sky and he was hating every moment with the man. Really, he was.  </p><p>Or that angsty, laboriously slow-build romance featuring a ridiculously attractive blond, a delayed quest to heal a damaged heart, and a tattoo parlor. It all fits together, I promise. </p><p>
  <b>01-18-2018: On INDEFINITE HIATUS</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Front Line

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a prompt I stumbled across on Pinterest (the prompt which I won't be telling you because it's supposed to be a surprise), and then quickly proceeded to spiral out of control. I intended to write the whole thing before I posted any of it, but I've been working on it for months and am nowhere near the end. I need motivation, so maybe if I have deadlines and readers I'll find some. 
> 
> I have quite a few chapters written already, but I'll only post a new one once I have finished another, which I will attempt to make about once a week, but I make no promises.

The trenches stank – the blood, excrement, and sweat sloshing over Kurogane’s boots and the acrid smoke lingering thickly from the burning bodies stung his eyes and nose. The stalemate at the front lines had drug on for days and then weeks, as both sides refused to give any ground or retreat, stemming all forward military progress for either army; meanwhile the pyres grew and their forces shrank and the smell grew worse.

 

The trenches broke up the roads on the edge of the town square, a mess of stone barriers made from the shattered walls of the city that were piled haphazardly across the downtown courtyard, making it easy to hide and move around in, unseen. According to their intelligence, the enemy’s headquarters was just beyond the courtyard in an old office building down the road and this place was the only way to get to through to it – all other roads were guarded heavily or completely impassible because of the debris. Unfortunately no one had managed to get to the other side of the square yet, and not because of the maze it had become in all the destruction. The few soldiers who had returned, broken and bleeding, spoke of a demonic mist, a terrifying shape that ran fast as the wind and dodged any attack. He was a blur of white and blue, a silent wraith that left a trail of blood and death in its wake.

 

Kurogane had been assigned the task of figuring out how to cross the courtyard, preferably with a platoon in tow although a small team would make do in a pinch. He had spent days trying to map it out, traveling as quietly as could, memorizing each and every stone and all the possible paths across the yard, all while keeping an eye out for sentries, as well as this mysterious shadow. So far all he had found was a nuisance.

 

He had made it through the first day in the courtyard without incident, mapping out the entire width of the place about fifty feet deep. Early on in the second day, however, he had turned a corner to find a lithe figure reclining on a large stone, his head tilted toward the sky and his eyes shut. Kurogane had slipped into the battle calm, emotions subdued and mind alert, and had drawn his sword, the rasp of steel in its sheath catching the attention of the other. The man’s eyes had slit open, his head tilting to the side in a manner that reminded Kurogane of a cat.

 

“Wooo, what’s this? A big, black doggie snuck up on me!”

 

The blond’s silly smile, paired with the ridiculous comparison, had irked the swordsman and he had been unable to quell a burst of anger. “What did you just call me?”

 

At the growl, the other’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before the smile had returned, this time with a smirk. “It seems the big doggie is angry! Maybe he would like a bone to chew on to soothe his temper.”

 

Kurogane had become so infuriated he had hunted the blond man all over the courtyard for nearly an hour, forgetting all about his assignment. The slippery bastard somehow managed to escape Ginryuu’s wrath and no amount of the ninja’s anger seemed to put fear into the other, his smile never fading and bright laughter leading the chase. Kurogane had come to the conclusion that the stranger must be an idiot.

 

It was the same routine every day, had been for nearly a week now. Blond hair and a white coat would pop out from behind a corner spouting nonsense and stupid nicknames, following Kurogane around for most of the day and chattering in accented Nihongo endlessly. He could not figure out why the guy had not tried to kill him yet, considering they were on opposite sides of this war, but so far all he had done was be irritating. The incessant talking and seemingly unending expanse of charred grass and blindingly white stone were giving him a headache.

 

“How big is this place anyway.” He had been muttering to himself but was not the least bit surprised when the other somehow overheard. For an idiot he had keen ears, not that Kurogane liked seeing any positive qualities in the other.

 

“Nearly a mile square, I think,” the blond said. “It would be easier for you if you didn’t have to work so hard at hiding, you know. Black was really not the best color to wear for sneaking here.”

 

“This is my uniform, I can’t wear whatever I want when I’m on duty. How is it my fault that your people like white so much they made it the only color in the whole damn city?”

 

The man’s mouth gaped with indignation. “Not true! We have blue, too. See, over there on that doorframe, or the sealant on the sidewalks, and look, over there on that sign!”

 

Kurogane barely spared a glance to the aforementioned objects, having already seen them and finding the dingy veins of blue strangely disappointing after seeing a certain idiot’s bright gaze. He shoved the thought aside. “Whatever. Shouldn’t you be trying to kill me?”

 

He was met with a cheerful grin, the man’s eyes closed tightly and his lips spread wide. “I could say the same thing to you.”

 

Kurogane stared at him for a moment before turning back to the map in his hand. “You’re not worth the effort.”

 

The man tilted his head like a cat, eyes questioning.

 

“What?” The swordsman glanced over, suspicious of the quiet and felt his stomach drop a moment later when the blond’s face broke into a knowing smirk.

 

“Mr. Black likes me!” he said, chirping in delight.

 

“What?”

 

“You won’t kill me because you enjoy the pleasure of my company too much! Mr. Black is so sweet.” The blond’s face was glowing with the brightness of his smile, white teeth sparkling in the sunlight.

 

Kurogane briefly debated the pros and cons of strangling the other, irritation broiling under his skin. “I am not! You’re nothing but an annoying idiot!”

 

Blue eyes widened in surprise and welled up with tears. “Mr. Black is so mean! He doesn’t want to be friends!”

 

He had almost been fooled by the trick the first time – the blond had wept dramatically at some blunt comment or insult of the ninja but after an apology the smile had returned instantly at full force and the ninja had berated himself for falling for such an obvious trick. He knew better now and this time chose not to respond at all, turning back to the crude sketch of the courtyard and continuing to add lines and markings as quickly and efficiently as he could, hoping no one else was around to hear the babbling of the other man. He had no doubt he could handle whoever or whatever that wraith thing was, but he had other responsibilities to take care of and his job would be a whole lot easier if the two never crossed paths.

 

It would also be a lot easier if the idiot currently following him around would stop following him around but no amount of shouting, sword swinging, growling, or insulting had managed to convince the leech to let go for the last few days so Kurogane had decided to try ignoring him as best he could and see if that had any affect. So far all it had done was seemingly communicate to the moron that he should talk even more, meaning the ninja’s normally quiet days were now unbearably noisy. Wherever that wraith was he was obviously far less of a danger than the other soldiers had made him out to be, if he never managed to hear the two of them. Either that or he was choosing not to get involved while a fellow soldier was nearby, in which case Kurogane figured he would have to be grateful for the blond’s presence, if not exactly pleased.

 

The man had apparently decided that whining was getting boring and had crept close while Kurogane was distracted by the map, popping up behind the taller man and poking him in the cheek.

 

“So what does Mr. Black do when he’s not being all grumpy and mysterious?”

 

“I told you not to call me that!”

 

The other’s mouth drooped into a pout. “Well what am I supposed to call you when you won’t tell me your name?”

 

“I have absolutely no reason to tell you my name. You’re the enemy.”

 

The man flapped a hand around as if waving away the comment. “You didn’t answer my question! What does the scary doggy like to do for fun? Play board games? Go drinking? Spend some time with the ladies?” He leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Maybe he likes to play ball!”

 

Kurogane felt a tide of anger rising up and barely kept from shouting, redirecting his ire into a low, pinched rumble. “Would you quit comparing me to dogs? I’m not a dog!”

 

Blond waves swung about as the man giggled, a decidedly unmanly sound that was irritating but strangely suited him with his fair hair and pale skin. The man clasped his hands behind his back and smiled cheerfully. “But the big doggie is so much fun to tease!”

 

Kurogane growled at him, vibrating with tension and wondering why he was having simultaneously complimentary and malignant thoughts toward the man. He tried to force himself back into ignoring him, but the blond was not one to appreciate silence, walking close and looking up at the ninja with interest through his messy locks.

 

“So, what _do_ you find fun?”

 

The sincerity in the question gave him pause; Kurogane had never really been asked anything like that before. He had never had anything that could be called a hobby, but he found himself considering the question seriously. Fighting was all he really knew and all he had ever wanted to do; it was probably not the answer the other was looking for, but it was all he had. “Training,” he said simply. 

 

Blue eyes sparkled, his lips twitching. “Training, hmm. I wonder… does the scary soldier know anything besides swinging around that behemoth?”

 

Kurogane huffed and held his chin high, proud of his skills and amused by the other’s seeming disdain. “Cross blades with me and then we’ll see how much doubt you have left about my sword. But yes, I do have other skills. Martial arts, mostly, and a little of the bow; I had to study the arts, too, calligraphy, flower arranging, pottery, though I’m not very good at any of those.”

 

The man shook his head, a tense smile on his lips. “So traditional, Mr. Black. Even your uniform is in the formal style of your country. Such an odd thing for a soldier.” His voice went quiet while his eyes roved over Kurogane searchingly.

 

Kurogane shifted, feeling uncomfortable under the other’s scrutiny and vaguely wondering if the other was making fun of his old fashioned lifestyle; the idea that he might bothered Kurogane. “I come from an old clan so we follow many of the customs and rituals of Nihon.” He thought about explaining their role to the royal family as warriors and guardians but he did not want to tell a stranger so much about his life nor about why the Princess’s personal bodyguard was out on the front lines and not at her majesty’s side. There was no way to explain the complexity, how there was more to it than strict duty to one’s country or a desire to fight, no way to give more than he already had without giving away too much.

 

The blond simply nodded, though, accepting the response. “And what will the soldier do when there is no one else to fight?” he muttered, a thoughtful expression on his face and Kurogane was not sure if he was supposed to have heard the question. It was something he had been asking himself for almost his entire life and he still had no answer.

 

“I don’t know,” he said.

~~~

 

The visits continued each day, annoying conversations, maddeningly blue eyes, stupid questions and all. The man chattered endlessly without ever really saying anything, not of any importance anyway, and Kurogane spent most days irritated and growling but always went back to his tent each night feeling oddly relaxed and calm. Despite how much the blond annoyed him, he also made each day more entertaining and helped the swordsman forget where he was and about all the death surrounding him. The war faded away whenever the stranger was around and Kurogane found himself looking forward to when the man would pop up each morning, becoming a welcome distraction to the dreadful stillness that always lingered over the frontlines, the fearful anticipation of battle. There was a growing sense of contentment when he was around the other man, a vague feeling of trust developing as the days progressed with no accompanying violence. A tentative companionship was forged throughout the hours of walking and talking and bickering.

 

Each day was peaceful, strangely enough, and though he never stopped being cautious and alert, Kurogane found the tension that had been building in his muscles for years begin to melt away, finding sleep a little easier each night now that his mind was less stressed and anxious all the time. It was not exactly happiness and it was not as if the two could be called friends, but Kurogane eventually decided it did not really matter what they were – the blond was keeping him sane, was making it easier to endure this war and that was enough for him to want to keep the other soldier around for as long as he could. If he purposefully walked slower and took more time to map out a route through the extensive courtyard, playing up the need for caution to his commanding officer, if he slowly began to realize that he was beginning to like blue eyes and cheerful laughter and if the other maybe began to mean something to him in a small way, no one else needed to know.

 

~~~

 

“Do you always have to be so annoying?” Kurogane glared at the other man icily though his fury was met with nothing more than a cheeky grin.

 

“I was just trying to give Mr. Black a massage. He looks so tense, hunched over his papers like that.” The man was sprawled beside him on one of the countless slabs of rock scattered around the courtyard, his back propped against an obelisk that had cracked and toppled over. His blond hair was strewn everywhere, the golden threads contrasting sharply against the dirty stone and shimmering in the fading light.

 

Kurogane was stoutly ignoring how beautiful it looked, how fine each filament seemed, pondering how soft it would be if he ran his fingers through the other’s tousled mane and let the strands slip through… Kurogane was definitely devoting all of his attention to the sketches in front of him but he could not help wondering why it was taking so damn long to get the proportions just right; he had never had so much trouble thinking clearly as he had this past hour with the other man lounging close enough for their ankles and knees to brush together. The soldier had been chattering endlessly the whole time, normally an easily ignorable, slightly soothing, static of background noise but today the melodic voice had been pulling Kurogane’s thoughts away from his work at every turn and he found himself getting more and more frustrated as the evening wore on.

 

When nimble fingers began kneading into the flesh of his neck and shoulders his brain had short-circuited for a moment, pleasure and shock and anger battling furiously through his mind in a play of bizarre facial expressions before he had settled on irritation. He was hardly surprised that the other took his ire in stride, finding it more amusing than something to take seriously. Kurogane threw the other one last glare for good measure. “Yeah, well… Don’t.” The jumbled mess in his head made it hard to think of a reasonable argument.

 

The other held up his hands in surrender and turned to look toward the setting sun. He was quiet for a while and the silence was even more distracting; there was no chatter to divert attention away from the sunlight glinting in sky blue eyes or the glow of pale skin in the dim light or the preoccupied, wondering look on his face.

 

Kurogane kept glancing at him surreptitiously, tracing the tendons in his neck and the shadows of his lashes over his cheek. The other man was silent for a long time, his cheeks and nose reddening in the bitter cold of evening and his mood quiet.

 

“It’s a beautiful sunset,” he said, his voice soft and unobtrusive in the still air. “I can’t remember the last time I stopped to see one.”

 

Kurogane glanced up and grunted, a memory of his father’s sword flashing under a similar purple sky flitting through his mind.

 

The other man continued his murmured musings, talking more to himself than to the ninja. “It’s not often we soldiers get to enjoy even such simple things as watching the sun set.”

 

“That’s what it means to be a soldier.” Kurogane had learned long ago that the sacrifices he made were worth the cost of keeping his people safe. “It takes away everything worth living for. It’s the only way to protect those same things for everyone else in the world.”

 

“And who do you protect?”

 

Kurogane turned to look at the blond fully, finding the other gazing at him seriously from the corner of his eyes. Normally he would have spoken of a warrior’s duty to his country, the creed to keep safe every soul in Nihon, but he suspected that the other was asking for something more personal. This question, at least, had an answer he could give truthfully. “The people I care about, the ones I love more than my own life.”

 

“And who are these people you love so deeply?” the other asked.

 

Kurogane looked back toward the horizon, quiet. “My master. And the honor of my family.”

 

The blond was silent for long moments. By the grave feeling in the air, Kurogane assumed he had understood the underlying meaning to his words, but the other chose not to respond the latter part of his answer, instead asking softly, “Do all warriors pledge themselves to a master, or is it a decision unique to big doggies?”

 

The ninja decided to ignore the insult for once, since his tone had been soft and sincere, and decided instead to maintain the solemnity that enveloped the air. “I’m not the only one but no, it’s not a common practice. Like I said before, I come from a more traditional family and all of my ancestors have chosen a master to devote their lives to. To do any different would disgrace them, dishonor them, and make me unworthy to wield the family sword. The Silver Dragon will only allow a strong man to unsheathe her. And strong men fight to protect something worthwhile.”

 

The other turned to him with curious eyes. “Are you a strong man?”

 

There was a time when the ninja would have loudly and passionately defended his worth, demanded battle to prove his strength, but his Princess’s words rang loudly in his heart and he could only sit and wonder himself as to the word’s true meaning. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the inspiration for this has to be attributed to [Mikkeneko's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko) [The Wizards of Ceres](http://archiveofourown.org/works/126869/chapters/179528), in which Celes and Nihon are small countries on the same planet. I would probably still have had the idea to do that here even if I had never read that work, but I do have to say that some of the minor elements that will be present in this story will probably be similar to "Wizards", although this story will have a more modern setting. 
> 
> Anyway, this is also just a quick plug-in for that story because it is one of my absolute favorites, so if you like Fai/Kurogane stuff, go read it, it is WELL WORTH the time.


	2. Blood and Spells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm... I'm sorry.

His fortunate streak did not last and nearly two weeks after Kurogane had begun scouting the land beyond the front line he stumbled upon a unit of enemy soldiers early in the morning. They seemed to be nothing more than guards, patrolmen keeping an eye on the field between the armies and he thought he could dispatch them quickly, but there was a pair of magicians among them. The two of them drew out short staffs from within the folds of their long coats and began weaving spells in the air, glowing symbols that hung suspended until completed and then morphed into the elements that flew straight for the swordsman. Fire wrapped around his limbs, singeing his cloak and heating his armor to unbearable temperatures, burning the flesh beneath. Wind rushed through, breathing oxygen into the flames and helping them grow and the ground began to crack under his feet. He rushed forward, trying to flee the conflagration and attack the enemy at the same time, but the foot soldiers had already circled behind him to prevent an escape and the mages had already erected magical barriers around themselves that withstood even Ginryuu’s power.

 

The spells died a moment later and Kurogane, free to move and see again, shifted his weight up onto his toes, moving quick and light across the uneven ground, attacking the shields and hunting for weak spots. He sensed movement behind him and ducked just before an arrow flew over his head and snapped against the stone in front of his face. He turned and saw the patrolmen had unearthed bows from somewhere and were taking aim, forcing him to defend himself from all sides – weapons behind and magic everywhere else. Bolts of wood and electricity alike came flying at the same time and he barely managed to avoid them, feeling steel tips slice through his clothing and white light melt the ends of his hair.

 

The attacks came ceaselessly, their higher numbers giving them the advantage so that there was always someone firing shots that almost always came from both sides simultaneously. Kurogane was a well-seasoned warrior, strong and with seemingly endless reserves of stamina, but he felt himself wearing down and knew that some of the magic weaving around him was probably sapping his strength prematurely, leaving him weakened far sooner than he would have happened normally. His steps slowed and Ginryuu became heavy in his hand. He paused, just for a moment, to breathe and looked up too late to avoid the next spell that was thrown at him. A blade of white fire seared through his shoulder, severing his arm, and he collapsed to his knees. Blood splattered the ground and Ginryuu clattered on the stone as he dropped forward onto his palm, willing himself not to scream. He tried to push himself up from the ground while his mind switched between shock over his arm lying on the ground and fear of the oncoming enemy and he wondered if this was how it had been for his father in his last moments.

 

There was no time to think, no time to regret what he had not done or dream of what he could still do, not even time to plan an escape. He managed to look up as the soldiers approached him slowly, the bowmen with arrows trained on his head and the mages still weaving spells, this time likely with the intent to kill him, and Kurogane breathed deeply, rocking back on his heels and preparing to face his death with dignity.

 

A ghost darted by on the edge of his vision and there was a moment of stillness before one of the soldiers howled, a crater punched through his chest. Panic sparked into existence, blazing to life in the shouts and frantic looks from one side of the small clearing to another. The ghost flew by again and another soldier died, a severed jugular spraying more blood across the pale ground. One of the mages seemed to shift focus, searching for the new attacker, while the other continued weaving the magic that would suck away Kurogane’s life force, his focus still trained on the swordsman, and Kurogane thought bitterly that whatever distraction had been bought was too little too late to save him. As the mage wrote in the air the ghost continued to flit by faster than sight, wreaking havoc on the soldiers at the ninja’s back. Magic swirled through the air, chasing after an unseen assailant, and the courtyard got quieter as more men dead.

 

Kurogane heard it all from a distance while his eyes remained on his killer, a hand braced to his injured shoulder and his teeth grinding in pain, refusing to be intimidated or frightened. The spell caster worked quickly and methodically, the magic gaining shape and strength in mere seconds though it seemed like minutes. The spell reached completion, a sphere of pure energy that hurtled across the short distance between where the magician stood casting and Kurogane kneeled. He kept his eyes open, watching it come, and froze when someone leaped in front of him at the last moment, a white coat and a wisp of gold blocking his vision. The magic burst into sparks of light on impact, shimmering on their way to the ground, and a groan reached Kurogane’s ears. The figure’s shoulders curled over and Kurogane saw the spell caster frozen in shock, his eyes wide with surprise and growing horror. Before anyone could say anything, the man in front of him scribbled symbols in the air and _pushed_ , the words wrapping around the other mage and knocking him to the ground, either unconscious or dead.

 

The swordsman’s mind raced, adrenaline drowning out the pain of his missing limb and forcing him to catalogue everything – the blood pooling across the ground, the silence, the smell of death, the rasping of breath from himself and the other man, the painfully familiar head of blond hair in front of him. He looked at the carnage around him, the entire unit slaughtered in just a few moments, remembered the speed at which he had moved and realized he had met the wraith everyone spoke of, had met him on the second day he was out here, and even the ninja was not fast enough to have withstood that much power. He only wondered why he had not died just like the rest of them.

 

“You’re the wraith… the one killing everyone who tries to cross.”

 

The man turned around, blue eyes calm and face blank for the first time since Kurogane had met him, before easing into a pained smile. “Hello, Mr. Black, fancy meeting you here.” He coughed harshly and grimaced before collapsing.

 

Kurogane managed to reach out quickly enough to catch the other man before he hit the ground, propping him against his chest.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

The blond chuckled, beaming up at him. “It seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it? I’m saving your life!”

 

“You idiot! You killed your own people to save the enemy?” He refrained from cuffing the man like he usually would but could not keep the rage out of his voice. “What were you thinking?”

 

“Well I was thinking I didn’t want Mr. Black to die,” he said, tone bright and cheerful.

 

At that, something in Kurogane broke and all the rage died, leaving behind nothing but sorrow and a sense of resignation. He pulled the other closer without thinking about it, curling over him protectively. “You… You idiot. Why would you do that?”

 

“I don’t know.” A smile hung suspended for a moment before he shook his head dismissively and fell silent, his face screwed up in pain but his eyes thoughtful. He seemed to blurt out the first thing that came into his head. “My brother, he’ll think this is his fault.”

 

The change of topic was a little confusing but he went along with it, too tired to keep scolding the other. “What is?”

 

“That I’m going to die.”

 

“Who says you’re dying?” Kurogane said, a growl rumbling in his throat.

 

“That was a death spell, very effective, though it does take its time doling out its effect. Even I’m not good enough to cheat that.” The other smiled ruefully and Kurogane felt his chest constrict at the resignation he saw but refused to back down.

 

“Only a coward gives up so easily.”

 

The guy smiled, a wane looking thing. “That’s me,” he choked, blood spattering his lips and wrestling his croaking throat into submission. “He was the one who wanted to live so badly. I was so afraid of being alone that I thought it would be better for me to go and die rather than risk living without him.” The other man’s eyes had glazed over, his mind drifting to another place. Kurogane shook him back into the present where he grinned up at the ninja. “I wasn’t surprised at all that he agreed to the switch.”

 

Kurogane grunted and shifted the man’s head to a more comfortable position, propped gently in the crook of his arm and absently wondering why he was having such a bizarre conversation while the two of them lay there dying. “Sounds like he’s an idiot too, if you ask me,” he said, deciding that ultimately it did not really matter what they chose to talk about anymore. 

 

The other chuckled before wincing and curling in on himself, a hand pressing gently into his abdomen. “He had dreams. I didn’t," he huffed, the effort to speak visibly draining him. "And I couldn’t let him give up on that, so I went instead.”

 

Kurogane hummed thoughtfully but stayed silent and the mage took it as permission to continue, his voice getting softer, his breathing more shallow as the spell took its toll.

 

“It wasn’t hard to take his place, no one has ever been able to tell us apart. He jumped at the chance to keep following his dreams so now he’ll blame himself…” He trailed off for a moment before his voice hardened, more hushed than before but firm and quick as he rushed to get it all out. “But it was my choice. He’s always had so much life, far more than I ever did, but he’ll think my death is on his hands and probably try to live the rest of his life for me. He’ll give up on everything he wants to- ” He choked on another rough cough, more blood dripping from his mouth and off his chin.

 

“Because he’s an idiot.”

 

The man looked up, his blue eyes shimmering.

 

“Living for someone else doesn’t make any sense. They’re gone. Living miserably for the rest of your own life wouldn’t make them happy. Living in way that makes them proud, that would have brought them happiness if they were still alive? That makes sense. He should keep doing what he’s doing, because _that_ would make you happy, wouldn’t it?” Kurogane raised an expectant eyebrow, quelling the curl of embarrassment over his little speech.

 

The man looked at him blankly for a moment before a gentle expression slid on is face. “Yes. It would.” The smile faded a moment later. “But he won’t do that. He’ll just- ” Another fit of coughing stopped him in his tracks and Kurogane stopped his next attempt to speak.

 

“No, just stop, I get it,” he said and fell briefly silent in thought before smirking at the other, trying to pull his attention away from depressing thoughts. “You know, for an idiot you fight well.”

 

The man smiled vaguely but said nothing and Kurogane watched his eyes begin to cloud over. He jostled the figure in his arm.

 

“Hey, stay awake,” he said, willing it to sound commanding and stern rather than how frantic and panicked it sounded in his head.

 

The blond muttered softly, barely audible but still clearly whining, his lids fluttering shut. “I can’t. Mr. Black is so warm and comfy. Makes me want to take a nap...”

 

Kurogane felt dread wash over him, the grin sliding away as he kept talking, desperate to keep the man alive, even for a moment longer, though he could not say why it was so important, and spit out the first thing that popped into his head, a question he had never thought to ask because until now it had seemed unimportant. “Hey! Tell me your name.”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Your name, mage – tell me your name.”

 

“Fay. Fay… Flourite.” He breathed out the name on a sigh and his eyes closed. He did not breathe again.

 

Kurogane curled the man even closer into his chest, his throat tight, and swallowed down a scream.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I took Tae Kwon Do for a few years when I was a kid and my oldest brother loves martial arts and fighting of any kind so I have done a lot of observing one-on-one combat and read a lot of fantasy books with sword fighting (specifically the Drizzt Do'Urden series - seriously, the detail is mind boggling), but I have very little practical knowledge, so I'm sticking to vague details. 
> 
> 2\. I try to make it obvious here that Fay's combat skills are superb, practically superhuman, as per my own headcanon that he is an even better fighter than Kurogane, he just never really shows it. Speculation is that Fay is probably already in his 50s despite his looks and as a soldier and highly skilled magician of Celes he has probably perfected the art of killing, although I think [cloverfield](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield) shows it better than I can in their fic [First Blood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1346122) . And I am shamelessly promoting it because it is one of my absolute favorites and I already gushed all over the comment boxes for it. Anyway, those descriptions of Fay's abilities are what I was imagining when I wrote this chapter. Just beware that it's probably going to stomp all over your heart. 
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, so this is where that prompt came in! It was "A soldier hears the last request from a dying man on the opposing side." And I thought "what if Kurogane heard one of the twins saying that his brother would probably blame himself for the other's death? What happened if Kurogane decided to go find the other brother and beat some sense into him?" And the whole thing just spiraled out of control and went from what was supposed to be a short and bittersweet oneshot into what will likely become a novel-length project that will hound me for months on end and now it's too late to stop. 
> 
> Anyway, this is turning into a total bitch to write (seriously, I started it like three or four months ago and have been editing and rewriting constantly and have only now gotten up to about 17,000 words) but I love it and it's one of those cases of "I really want to read a story like that but it doesn't already exist and no one else will do it the way I want so now I have to somehow figure out how to do it myself." Honestly, though, I'm not sure my writing style suits the feeling I'm hoping to give off with this story. I want it to be super angsty and bittersweet but also fluffy and romantic. So, if you're keeping up with this let me know how I'm doing. Comments are super motivating for me and I would absolutely ADORE AND APPRECIATE tips, suggestions, requests, and ideas of any kind. I can't guarantee they'll all make it into the story, but the help is definitely wanted. 
> 
> Each chapter's goal is about 3,000 words but that varies by a good 500 words at least, since when I first started writing I wasn't concerned with chapter length. And I will try to update every week, but as has been shown already, don't be surprised if it takes closer to two on a regular basis.


	3. Questions

Relations between Celes and Nihon had always been uncertain at best and outright hostile at worst. Not even the history books could remember when the fighting had first begun or why and some said that the countries were born from the children of light and darkness themselves, neither good nor evil but simply too different to get along. Old gurus and romantics tried to speak of the need for balance, for cooperation and peace between the two nations, saying that if a treaty were made and the two cultures mingled a little, sharing knowledge and skills and resources, that they could achieve a magnificent harmony beyond belief or compare. If the countries could find a way to bring their differences together and complement each other, the results would be beneficial to not only both countries but possibly to the rest of the world, a unity between the two greatest powers and the two most unique and beautiful cultures. Perhaps they themselves were biased, but even other nations could not argue that Celes and Nihon were intriguing places to study and wonderful lands to live in for many reasons, many of which were similar.

 

Both had stable economies, good farmland for the crops of their region, just and kind rulers, strong armies, rich artwork and a variety of artistic areas of expertise, and friendly and hardworking people. To outsiders and foreign nations it seemed a mystery as to why the two nations continued to fight over seemingly insignificant issues – they did not want land or money or resources, but seemed only to squabble over etiquette and cultural differences, slights to each others’ honor or ancestry or traditions that appeared trifling on the surface but to the citizens of those nations were taken as insults to the core of who they were as a people. Values of great import in one land were often taken lightly by the other, and most attempts for peace agreements ended with both sides becoming more enraged than they had been in decades.

 

Kurogane, from his brief year of experience as a bodyguard to an ambassador, had found the Celesians to be strange and far too talkative, cheerful, and open with their affections for his own comfort but had quickly realized they were not bad people. He had taken their ignorance of Nihon culture in stride, wise enough from the teaching of his parents and Princess Tomoyo to know that they likely had no idea that how they spoke of his people and his traditions was insulting. He explained things as best as he could when he found it necessary but often let their comments and jests simply roll off his back. He had learned at the rough hands of Souma that anger was something to be controlled and utilized in proper ways and peace negotiations were the last place he should be losing his temper. The only reason the meetings had ended as abruptly as they had was because one of his subordinates had made a scathing remark about the supposed virtue of the Celesian princess who had allowed many of the dignitaries in the room to kiss her hand upon her entrance.

 

The soldier had merely been whispering to a fellow guard, his insulting words said mostly out of shock at the profuse physicality inherent in Celes culture which was in sharp contrast to Nihon reservation and privacy, but one of the nobles had overheard and his fury had forced the visiting group to leave immediately, starting a back-and-forth of subtle but heated slander between the royals that escalated far too quickly and ended up leading to mutual declarations of war. Kurogane had never met King Ashura and could not speak to his disposition, but Empress Amaterasu, despite her wisdom and usual calm, was known for having a short temper when disrespected. It was a constant point of contention between the sisters, the younger having always managed to maintain an air of tranquility and gentleness even with the most hostile people and words.

 

Kurogane was a fighter, had been trained to be one since he was tall enough to hold the wooden training swords his father kept, but he had no desire for war. He loved a good fight, loved swinging his blade against a worthy opponent, and he was loyal to his country and his Princess – he would do whatever was necessary to protect them – but this war was foolish.

 

The only reason he had gone to the front lines to join the fighting was because his Princess had ordered it after one too many injured students. He never meant to hurt them but he had been without a challenging opponent for years and their weakness was both frustrating to him personally and intolerable for the standards required for soldiers. Often in his attempts to make them stronger he would become impatient and frustrated and ended up taking it out on the students, using more strength or speed than they were ready to handle. Tomoyo was not angry with him but she knew that he could not stay where he was and so had sent him off to hopefully rid himself of his pent up ire and energy.

 

He had been angry with her at first, for sending him away. His job was to protect her from assassination attempts and he could not do that if he were out fighting hundreds of miles away, but even he could not deny the fact that he was restless, unhappy, discontent. Kurogane was never happier than when he had a blade in his hand and an opponent to face or train and his job as both bodyguard and instructor for new recruits gave him both almost every day but it was not enough. There was something else missing, some desire he had that remained unfulfilled and so long as that wish remained unknown even to himself his agitation only grew.

 

The battlefield had helped relieve the tension for a time; constantly fighting and spilling blood had quelled the singing of his blade and wore his body out so much that he hardly had time to think. He used all the energy he had been storing up for years and then some, falling onto his bedroll and slipping into dreams almost instantly most nights and dealing with the antics of a certain blond had only made sleep even easier to achieve in those last few weeks.

 

Fay. He had a name to put to the face, rather than just “idiot,” or “moron,” or even “mage,” there near the end. Kurogane would never have guessed the man was a magician, let alone the wraith-like being that had been killing their men for weeks down in that courtyard but there was no other explanation. Fay moved as quick as thought, a flash of white and gold and blue that dealt death in the blink of an eye. Perhaps there could have been another who was actually responsible, killing did not really seem to fit the man’s character after all, but Kurogane had watched the man spill his own peoples’ blood just to save him and the army had found little trouble sending small patrols to cross the courtyard after that day. The map he had created was practically complete anyway and someone else filled in the last few blank spaces; the enemy’s headquarters had been found and destroyed less than a week later according to the letter Sorata had sent to him at the hospital so it made sense that Fay had been the one responsible for all the previous killings.

 

That day Kurogane had somehow managed to drag himself from the courtyard and back to his own people. He had barely been able to stand, the combination of pain and blood loss blurring his vision and leaving him weaker than he could ever remember being and if he had still had both of his arms he probably would have crawled the whole way. Instead he had staggered from stone to stone, leaning his weight on whatever he could grab and scratching up his chest and arm with each stumble. Someone had shouted at him mere moments after the barricades and tents came into view around the last corner and the relief he had felt had driven him to his knees and straight into unconsciousness.

 

It was nearly a week later before he woke for the first time, wrapped tightly in white bandages in a stark hospital room. He had been transported a day or so later from the field hospital once the doctors had confirmed he had no infections and that he was stable and his heart rate was back to normal after a blood transfusion. The doctor here, Souseki, had patiently answered all his questions, telling Kurogane everything he knew about what was going on at the front and how the battle was going but once the swordsman began coughing from a dry throat, the doctor insisted on rest, forcing him to drink a glass of water and then lie down, even if he was not going to sleep.

 

Now, a few days later, Kurogane lay staring at the ceiling for hours, deciding what choices had brought him to that moment. He curled a hand gently over his wounded shoulder, fingers tapping at scabs and bone and torn skin through the linen and absently marveling at the wonders of painkillers. Mostly he thought about Fay, remembering the way the sun glinted off his golden hair or how his eyes were bluer than the sky. He saw a ghost, beautiful and graceful; a monster, fast and deadly; a wraith, unknowable and unattainable. He remembered days of irritation and nights of overwhelming peace and rest that slowly turned into days of contentment and nights of loneliness, even if he had not recognized it at the time. He remembered a white coat splattered with blood hanging from drooped shoulders, magic swirling angrily in the air, and two men broken and dying and insulting a man he had never met.

 

Kurogane remembered the rush of sadness that had nearly overwhelmed him when those blue eyes had closed for the last time, an incomprehensible sorrow that baffled him and broke him in equal portions. Fay was practically a stranger, had been a thorn in his side and nothing more for just a few days and yet his loss was so painful it was hard to breathe, even now. At first he had thought it was just the pain from his arm confusing him, but now two weeks later doped up on pain medication and far removed from the battlefield, Fay’s death was still a weight in his gut and a tightness in his throat that would not go away.

 

Eventually, he remembered what Fay had told him about an idiot brother who would probably blame himself and he realized the thought of it bothered him. Kurogane squirmed in the hospital bed uncomfortably, thinking about an unknown man wallowing in grief and despair, deciding to give up on his own dreams for the sake of a brother who had chosen death, even inadvertently. There was something wrong with both of those brothers, both having their own way of sacrificing everything for the other – the first his own life and future, the second his own happiness and dreams. Kurogane had the sudden thought that the two must have loved each other more than life itself and he wondered what it would be like to feel that much for someone. His parents had died when he was so young he could hardly remember how it felt to love and be loved by one’s family and what he felt for Princess Tomoyo was more admiration born from loyalty and devotion than actual affection. It took courage to put your life on the line for another but it took love beyond comprehension to give up on everything _but_ life itself and it sounded like that was what Fay expected his brother to do.

 

He wondered what the other looked like, if they were really so similar that the two could switch places without anyone being the wiser, and Kurogane startled in his seat with the awareness that he did not know if the name he had been given was the man’s real name or if it was the name he had taken on in place of his brother and that bothered him even more. He was struck with the desire to find out, not just to know what name really belonged to his rescuer, but with a vague feeling that he wanted to know the surviving brother too. Maybe he would not be able to do anything for him, would not be able to help him with his grief and keep him from going down a path of self-sacrifice and misery, but he could at least tell the man that such a choice was not what his brother would have wanted.

 

He waited for the next visit from the nurse, asking her if she could send in the doctor whenever he found the time. Souseki came by an hour or two later and stood by patiently.

 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Suwa?”

 

“I… I want to find someone. A soldier from Celes that was there that day.” He did not feel the need to elaborate, the doctor would know what he meant. “He had a message for his brother.”

 

“Do you have a name?”

 

“Fa-“ He paused, remembering that he could not be certain about the man’s name and settled on using the family name only; it was unlikely any of the other soldiers who had died in the courtyard that day had the same name. “Flourite. Just Flourite. I’m not sure about the first name.”

 

Souseki nodded. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you focus on getting some rest and taking care of that shoulder so it heals properly. I have already sent a message to Princess Tomoyo and informed her that her favorite bodyguard has been injured rather badly. She is already well into the process of organizing for you to be outfitted with the latest prosthetics. I expect she will want you back on duty as soon as you are ready.”

 

Kurogane groaned, knowing full well that he was not going to get off easy, although he supposed he was looking forward to the challenge. Just not yet; he was tired.

 

Souseki smiled at him, eyes dancing in amusement. “You have your work cut out for you, Mr. Suwa, and you will need as much energy as you can get. Sleep while you can!” He called out the last bit as he turned away and strode off down the hall to see more patients.

 

The ninja shook his head, remembering a tiny body and long black hair, voice so gentle but commanding and wise. His Princess was kind and compassionate but she expected much and demanded much of those who she knew could endure it, who could live up to her high standards and unfortunately for Kurogane she had seen his potential from the moment she laid eyes on him and had never let him slack off. In a way it was helpful, it created the perfect challenging environment for him to rise to and leap beyond, making him stronger far faster than he could have imagined, but there were days that all he wanted to do was sleep. Sword training was exhausting and training students sometimes meant more bruises for the master than the apprentice, when flailing katana and limbs could not be avoided by even the fastest reflexes simply because they came from such strange and unexpected directions. The people of Nihon, even untrained, were strong and fast and oftentimes the inexperienced were dangerous, as Kurogane had found out rather early on.

 

Fighting was in his blood, the song of Ginryuu was woven into his very soul, and even losing an arm was not going to stop him from picking up a blade, but if he were honest Kurogane was ready for a break. He was tired. It had been years of restlessness and nonstop work and then the war on top of that, months of sleeping out in the cold and training from dawn to dusk if not on duty, and at the very end of it all an injury so devastating it nearly took his life. Even a week straight of unconsciousness had not brought back his stamina and the energy it took for his body to heal was staggering. He was not usually known for lying around all day and he was beginning to get bored being stuck in this hospital room for the foreseeable future, but for now he was going to take advantage of the quiet stillness and sleep.

 

There was a button on the control panel for the bed that would shut off the lights and Kurogane tapped it lightly, the room dimming to just the little sunlight that leaked past the thick curtains and from under the door to the hallway. He shifted, getting comfortable, and let his eyes drift shut, memories of sparkling blue and gold flashing through his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Did you notice the super subtle one-time name drop there in the middle? Just like Tsubasa this will have all of the crossovers I can possibly squeeze in. If I can get away with having no original characters I'm going to do it. 
> 
> 2\. Yes, there is a Celesian Princess. Yes, I know who it is, but their identity is not going to be revealed for a long, long while (if ever, though I hope to get it in somewhere). Wanna guess who it might be? 
> 
> 3\. As I said before, this is a modern setting, but one with magic, so imagine Celes, Nihon, Clow, etc. are all on the same planet and it has technology as advanced as Piffle but because of magic there is less need for all of the technology and thereby leaving the world rather similar in physical appearance to America. Large cities exist, but there is still plenty of open land, whereas I imagine Piffle much like Coruscant from Star Wars. Tomoyo is not the head of the "Piffle" corporation but being royalty she certainly has some influence and would probably find it easy to finagle a brand new prosthetic from them pretty quickly, lucky for Kurogane. 
> 
> 4\. So, I'm trying to keep you guessing as to which brother is Fay and which is Yuui, but I'm sure it already is, or soon will be anyway, easy to figure out. 
> 
> 5\. BTW, I HATE using the spelling "Fay" instead of "Fai," but because this is supposed to be a world with unique languages I'm going to say that the spelling of his name would altered slightly from what makes sense in English, hence the weird spelling. I'm big on languages, so though in English it makes more sense to use "Fai" if it were actually a name in another language when it was adapted to using English letters it may have come out different. Just like how in Norse a "J" makes the same sound as the English "Y," "E," is always pronounced as in "beet," and "I" is always pronounced as in "big." And since I'm kind of keeping Norse/Celtic mythology, art, and culture in mind for Celes using an "i" in his name would not make sense for their pronunciation so "Fay" would make just as much or more sense than "Fai." 
> 
>  
> 
> Is it getting interesting yet?


	4. Progression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's been awhile. Sorry. I'm like five or six chapters ahead of what is published and I had told myself I wouldn't update until I had written each new chapter, but I haven't done that yet and I think I've made you wait enough. So I'll just have to buckle down and write more for a couple of weeks and catch up. 
> 
>  
> 
> Someone brought up after the last chapter that they're a little confused about what this world is actually like since I say it's a Modern AU but the soldiers still use bow and arrows and swords and what not. I'll try and clear it up a little if I can. This is a Modern AU, that is an inarguable fact in my mind and modern technologies that we have (skyscrapers, toasters, washing machines, elevators, cellphones and laptops, etc.) and even some things more advanced (like Kurogane's prosthetic, for example) exist, however, because magic is inherently part of and accepted in this world it has affected some things. Most technologies were either inspired by or have been enhanced by magics. Not everyone can perform magic, however, so most modern amenities are still required and used by the average citizen, but this is NOT a steampunk world, not in my head anyway. Imagine a cross between Piffle, our own world, and throw in a dash of what life at Hogwarts is like where magic can be used for mundane tasks but is most often utilized for and valued for combative skills.  
> \- In Nihon the "magicians" are mostly the priests and priestesses, those that maintain the protective spells and barriers of the country. Other types of magic exist and those that have those types may: fight in the army; aspire to work in technological development or research; some become teachers or instructors for the next generation of magicians; dreamseers sometimes work as fortune tellers, stock brokers, even therapists. However, most "magicians" in Nihon only possessive defensive magic - spells to protect, give strength and energy, heal, etc. They are a country that maintains power by enduring and withstanding, not by fighting.  
> \- In contrast, Celesian magicians primarily possess offensive, combative type spells. They also have people with abilities like those in Nihon - healing, enhancing/supporting magics, dream seeing, etc. - but they are rare skills just as they are Nihon.  
> As it is in most worlds, those with power control the distribution of that power. Magic is in an inherent skill that people in this world are born with. Those who have learned to use it in the past, rather obviously, have often been people who gained power and control. So, those who wish to learn magic must follow in similar footsteps/career choices. Thus magic in this world is primarily utilized in militaristic, technological, and advanced research areas. The average citizen who does not wish to enter one of those fields must be self-taught by whatever they can find among what is available to the public and will likely never be better than a novice in whatever they decide to do.  
> Weapons have remained rather old fashioned because it was simpler to use magic to strengthen what they already had, imbuing arrows, swords, spears, etc. with spells to make them fly farther, hit harder, never miss a target, never dull or weaken, etc., or into creating more powerful and destructive attack spells, rather than in pouring time into creating completely different weapons entirely. Kind of a "why fix what's not broken?" mentality; those weapons and magic combined together are plenty effective and deadly as they are and one skilled magician could easily equal the destructive power of a tank or a missile without having to waste resources and time building and shipping such things. Far easier for one man to create or learn a spell and pass it on to other magicians than to funnel money, research, time, energy, resources, and manpower into developing new weapons, mass producing those weapons, and training soldiers to use them.  
> Okay, I hope that clears up most questions about the nature of magic and technology as it exists in this world and that I've given reasons that make sense. I haven't spent much time building up the details of this world because I felt they were more background issues to the plot but feel free to keep asking questions!

“Come on, Kurogane, you can do this, you’ve done it before plenty of times.”

 

Kurogane growled low in his throat, sending a glare to the tiny woman seated next to him.

 

Yuzuriha laughed, as unfazed by his surly attitude as always. “You’re thinking about it too much. Here.” She picked up a second cup and set it in front of him. “Try picking them up at the same time, but only focus on your right hand.”

 

Kurogane moved his real hand and the new prosthetic till each was hovering over a cup, focusing his gaze on the right and trying to ignore the left. He closed his fist and startled so much at a faint sensation of touch from his left hand that he almost dropped the cup it was now holding lightly.

 

“Yay! You did it! See, I told you that you could do it.” Yuzuriha beamed at him and Inuki rubbed against his leg from under the table.

 

Kurogane grunted, refusing to smile, though inside he could not help a small swell of happiness and relief. The healing and rehabilitation had been more difficult than he had realized it would be, just the skin over his severed limb taking weeks to grow and it was still tender and sore, even months later. Princess Tomoyo had coordinated with the best prosthetic company Nihon had to offer and had gotten her hands on the latest model prosthetic, one that fused with the nervous system and behaved more like an actual limb than any other previous designs had even come close to achieving. It was completely controlled by the brain, muscles, and nervous system, just like a real arm, only the technology had to convert brain waves to electrical pulses and back again. Sensors were scattered over the limb, relaying heat, cold, and touch, although not as well as a real limb would, but it was far better than any plastic hand or a metal claw.

 

The arm was still in its raw stages, rush delivered to Kurogane as soon as his physical therapist had decided he was ready for it, and its bare components were still visible, the designers not having had the time to put on a layer of skin. It did not bother the swordsmen, aesthetics being far less important than functionality, and in a way he rather liked the crude, mechanical look of it. It was waterproof and highly resistant to damage, rust, or staining, far more than any fake skin would be, and looking at it reminded him of Fay more than the allusion of a real arm would have.

 

It had been months of effort, training his body to compensate for the missing limb while the wound healed. He had gotten into the habit of showering at night rather than in the morning, needing to wash away the sweat from his body every day and enjoying letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles. Yuzuriha had been patient and cheerful with him from the beginning, first teaching him how to care for the wound and prevent irritation or infection, then in showing him how to move and take care of himself with only one arm, and now in retraining his body all over again with the prosthetic. In a way, this was almost like going back to normal, but his brain had gotten used to there being nothing on his left side to move and having to trick it into discovering that he did now, in fact, have an arm again was difficult. Yuzuriha assured him that it was all completely normal and that with this new prosthetic he was actually progressing much faster than most amputees would have been able to, so Kurogane tried hard to be patient as well but some days were more difficult than others.

 

He had decided early on that he would not even think about picking up his sword again, not for a long time. He knew better, knew that his chances of being able to fight again, especially back at the level of skill he had before, were small. Ginryuu had always been paired with his right hand, but his left was necessary for drawing, for balance, for maneuvering his body where it needed to be, and for any fighting that did not involve weapons. He would fight again one day, maybe, but Princess Tomoyo had promised him that she did not expect him to return to her side for a long time, possibly not ever, and that was okay; she wanted him well more than anything else.

 

“I did this for you because you are my friend, Kurogane, not because I need another bodyguard.” She had been looking at him sternly through the screen, her brows furrowed fiercely, and the swordsman had to suppress a chuckle at how such powerful anger looked on someone so small.

 

“I understand, Princess. But I swear to you, if I am ever able to return to your side, the strength of my sword again unmatched, I will do so. I swore I would protect you with my life and I won’t let this injury break that promise.”

 

She had smiled sweetly and accepted and that had been the last he thought of it.

 

Yuzuriha had seemed to understand without him ever having to say anything and she never brought it up, only ever pushing him to relearn the simple tasks he would need to function from one day to the next – washing dishes, holding silverware, folding laundry, even turning lights on and off – all of them would be easier if he could do them with both hands again and she was determined to make sure he could use the prosthetic arm just as well as he had used his real arm. She recognized that those things were his priority for now and fighting would just have to wait; it was easier to never talk about it then to wistfully look forward to something that he was months or even years away from attempting.

 

Even Kusanagi never said anything, despite the fact that he had also been a soldier and loved to fight. For the most part he made himself scarce during their therapy, Yuzuriha explaining that most patients were embarrassed by their inability to do such simple tasks and were more comfortable with as few people around to see them as possible. Inuki stayed because he was trained to be unobtrusive unless comfort was needed, but Kusanagi knew it was better to stay away, only ever coming by when the man’s strength was needed to lift someone up off the floor or help them stagger from one place to another until their arms and legs were strong enough to hold their bodies up on their own. Kurogane had mostly ignored the man, only seeing him in glances on his way into the exercise rooms for the first few weeks.

 

There had been a bad day, though, one of those days where none of his limbs wanted to cooperate and his mind could not make them do what he wanted them to. He had told Yuzuriha a few days earlier that he wanted to start working out again to keep the rest of his body fit and not just strengthening it in preparation for the prosthetic. She had been showing him exercises and stretches he could do one-armed and a few of the more difficult ones, one-after-another, had worn him out and his arm had given out from under him. He had face planted on the floor, letting out a string of curses, angry with his body in a way he never had been before.

 

Yuzuriha had tried to encourage him, telling him to rest for a few minutes before trying again, she knew he could do it it would just take practice. Kurogane had lost his temper, shouting and swearing at her till she had run from the room in fright, Inuki close at her side. He had still been fuming when Kusanagi had strode in a couple of minutes later, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms, staring down at the ninja where he was sprawled on the floor.

 

Kurogane had snarled at him. “What?”

 

Kusanagi had raised a brow at him but stayed silent, letting the other man mutter to himself and mull over what had happened for a few minutes. Kurogane’s anger ran its course and drained away soon after, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

 

“You were unkind to Yuzuriha.” Kusanagi had said, spoken bluntly and without gentleness but also without accusation; he just said it.

 

Kurogane had sighed, gaze on the floorboards. “I know.” A hand had appeared in front of his face and he had looked up to see the other man reaching to help him up from the floor. He had taken the man’s hand and Kusanagi had hauled him to his feet, stepping back a moment later so the swordsman could see Yuzuriha peeking around the corner of the doorway, Inuki standing guard at her feet. Kurogane had put his arm at his side and bowed low. “I am sorry for yelling at you, Yuzuriha.”

 

She had stepped fully into the room, glancing over at Kusanagi who nodded at her, and then she smiled as brightly as ever. “It’s okay, you were just frustrated with yourself. Everyone gets to the point where they’re angry with their own body, it’s part of how you grow stronger.”

 

After that, Kusanagi came around more often, stopping by for a couple of hours almost every day, and at first Kurogane was irritated by it, thinking the man no longer trusted him alone with Yuzuriha, but he had realized the fellow solider was offering his presence as solidarity, as comfort. His strength encouraged Kurogane and if he had ever thought to apply the word to anyone in his life he would probably have called the man his friend. They drank together late on the weekends after Kurogane had cleaned up from the tiring days of therapy and watched the stars. Sometimes they talked – about the war, about their days of training to fight, about endlessly cheerful tiny women who had backbones of steel – but mostly they just sat and drank and enjoyed the quiet.

 

Kurogane had settled into a routine, physical therapy every afternoon, five days a week in the exercise rooms of the therapy home where he was living with Yuzuriha, Kusanagi, and a couple of other patients who also had nowhere else to stay. He spent most of his free time reading manga, answering texts and calls from Tomoyo, and waiting to hear word from Souseki about Fay.

 

The war had ended just a few weeks after Kurogane lost his arm, the destruction of Celes’s main headquarters in the border city being the final push Nihon troops needed to gain the upper hand. For once, Amaterasu had listened to the council of her younger sister and had negotiated a peace treaty rather than making Celes into Nihon territory. The northern country had maintained its independence under the agreement that all hostility would cease, trade would be established between the two countries, and ambassadors would be chosen to live in the foreign lands to teach Nihon and Celesian culture, history, and traditions to their allies.

 

Many people were still skittish, families who had lost loved ones refusing to tolerate the idea of visitors from the neighboring country coming or of allowing Celes to get off without punishment, but the royals had decided that more death would not solve the problem and would not bring healing. King Ashura had been surprisingly agreeable about all of the terms of the treaty, hardly protesting any of the particulars and finding it quite reasonable, apparently. Princess Tomoyo had told Kurogane she had been a little nervous at first but after months of quiet and continued peace with only minor disagreements she had decided he may have been hoping for a treaty in the first place, only going to war at the insistence of the nobles of Celes who held almost as much power as the King.

 

They had just opened the borders to traders and commoners a couple of weeks prior, having finally hammered out the details of foreign relations and laws in regard to the crimes that could end up being committed by tourists in their neighboring country. The rulers were not foolish, they knew that not all travelers would be peaceful and not all citizens would be kind to visitors; repercussions had to be put in place for troublemakers.

 

The doctor had been using his connections through injured soldiers to contact the higher-ups in the military to try and find out any available information about a magician with the last name “Flourite” who had died on March 2 of that year. So far he had not found anything, but with the opening of the border and relations between the two countries finally improving Kurogane hoped that someone in the Celesian military would have some information about the man’s family, even a home address they could give that would help Kurogane deliver the message of a dead man to his brother. He was trying to be patient, but the soldier’s words about what his brother would likely do at the news of Fay’s death worried him, made him anxious at how much time had already passed.

 

~~~

 

Summer was at its close, Kurogane’s physical therapy nearing its end, when he finally heard from Souseki in the form of a small letter with information on the man’s death and his remaining relative. The paper said that “Wizard Flourite” had died in the line of duty on March 2 in the border city under assumed friendly fire, the cause of death a Celesian spell, but that his entire patrol unit had been wiped out as well; an ambush was suspected, the resulting chaos leading to a simple case of “wrong place, wrong time.” Souseki wrote that he had gotten the information indirectly from a soldier in the mage’s platoon, the only one who had survived that day as he had been on base with a case of the stomach flu. The only other information the man had was that Flourite’s twin brother was currently residing in the capital city of Celes, working at place called “Phoenix Ink.”

 

Kurogane read through everything twice, memorizing all the information before refolding the papers and tucking them back into the envelope, setting it on the table in front of him while he thought. With summer ending traveling through Celes would soon become difficult, winter snows arriving early in the northern, mountainous country. His therapy was nearing its end, meaning he would probably have little trouble convincing Yuzuriha to let him finish prematurely, in which case he could leave within a few days if he wanted. However, if the search took too long or the snows came early he could end up trapped in Celes for the whole winter, not able to return home until spring. If he wanted to avoid that he could wait to go until winter’s end, but that would mean it would be at least a year between the mage’s death and Kurogane finding his brother. It had already been so long and Kurogane had the feeling that if he waited any longer it would be too late. Too late for what, he could not say, but he knew he needed to track down Fay’s brother soon.

 

He got up to go find Yuzuriha.

 

~~~

 

“Papers, please.”

 

Kurogane handed over his identification documents and letter of permission to cross the border into Celes. Princess Tomoyo had ensured that his paperwork had been taken care of quickly, mailing it out within just a couple of days. Since the ninja had not traveled far from the border it had barely been a week since Souseki’s letter had arrived yet he was already on the verge of entering Celes. Yuzuriha had listened to Kurogane’s request quietly, mulling it over and looking to Kusanagi for a moment. They had come to a silent agreement and Yuzuriha gave her permission for Kurogane to finish his therapy early, so long as he promised to follow a strict regime to ensure everything healed and strengthened properly. She also gave a list of tools and care products to buy to maintain the prosthetic – oils and screwdrivers and the like. Kusanagi had dropped by later that day to say he would accompany the ninja to the border and Kurogane had nodded, strangely glad for the familiar company for a short while longer, and had parted with the man a few minutes earlier.

 

The soldiers guarding the border were friendly but professional, following their tasks efficiently and helping Kurogane sort through the confusing paperwork with patience and finesse. Once through the border checkpoint, the ninja headed toward the bus stop, just a signboard and bench on the side of the road.

 

There were few vehicles in Celes, especially the farther north you went since the heavy snow that fell nearly nine months of the year made roads impassible so almost all the citizens relied on horses and sleds. There were no trains and buses were in short supply – most stops only had two or three pick-up times a day, even at the border. Traffic between the countries was still slow with only a few companies having already established trade and few people being truly interested in tourism as of yet. Too much conflict, so much bad history, had made most rather unfavorable toward their neighbors and so far next to no one had crossed the border. Kurogane was the only one at the checkpoint and the only one at the bus stop, even a few hours later when the vehicle finally arrived. It, too, was empty, save for the driver, and Kurogane strode to the back to sit in the middle of the extra long bench, stretching his legs out into the aisle. He laid Ginryuu across his lap and threw his duffle alongside him on the seat, grateful to take the weight off his shoulder.

 

The scenery out the window was rather bland – mostly empty fields of sparse brown grass, already dying as Winter rapidly approached, and towering mountains looming in the distance. There were a few pine trees scattered across the landscape, touches of rich green among the drab backdrop of the dark mountains near the horizon. From this far off they were simply grey smudges blurring out the edges of the sky. The afternoon sun was hidden behind the clouds, leaving the dismal scene in shadow and Kurogane thought that with how cold it already was there must never have been much foliage here, even in the summer. It was a rather jarring contrast to the lush and green Nihon he knew; the freezing, sparkling white snow would probably be a welcome change to the drabness.

 

He turned away from the window after awhile and leaned his head back on the seat, eyes drifting shut and letting his mind wander. He thought about Fay and his heavy, monstrous coat, the way the fur shone on his golden hair and dwarfed his body. The man was tall and muscular, though thin, and the thick winter clothing had made him seem smaller than he actually was. The blinding white of it all had beautifully complimented the blue scrollwork designs and the shining gold staff he had slung around with him everywhere he went. He thought about how blond hair would stand out against all the gray and white and brown of this country and how the sky would be mirrored in azure eyes. Laughter had always been sparkling in their depths, an unquenchable light that bubbled from within and brightened the very air around him.

 

He thought about swiftly drawn spells and the graceful strength of a killer, the artful spray of blood and glowing fingertips scrawling magic and severing limbs. All he had seen was the aftermath and a blur, heard the screams and the rush of air in his passing; the brief moments before his attacker's death had revealed a man familiar with pain and death and killing. It was an intriguing contradiction to the smiling idiot he had thought he had known.

 

He thought about obnoxious smiles and endless chatter and a strange sense of calm that had settled into his spirit for all those days, despite his outward irritation.

 

Kurogane missed him. It was a strange feeling, missing someone other than his parents, but he knew it was the same even if the severity of it was not. At the time he had not even thought he liked Fay but he had grown used to the other being present nearly every waking hour, even began to enjoy their bickering, and it was an aching hole in his day now that it was gone. For a couple of weeks afterward he had often found himself half expecting silly comments and stupid questions to be thrown at him, sometimes even feeling off center at the end of the day when no one had referred to him as anything but “Kurogane,” or “Mr. Suwa.” The magician had wormed his way into Kurogane’s life and now he was left figuring out how to deal with the absence.

 

Maybe that was why he wanted to find the man’s brother so much, some pathetic attempt to fill the void or stand as a substitute for the idiot’s grinning face. Kurogane knew this other brother was his own person, that you could not bring back the dead and no one could replace another, but some part of him hoped that this brother would ease the ache in a way no one else had been able to over the last few months. It was probably selfish of him but he could not deny how much he missed the sound of his laughter and the mage’s mischievous eyes – that particular shade of blue, so rich and bright and clear like nothing else on earth, not even the sky.

 

The thought made him abruptly tired and Kurogane shuffled a bit in his seat, settling into the cushions as best he could and gripping Ginryuu tightly in his fingers. He pushed away his thoughts with the focus born from hours of meditation and training as a ninja, letting empty tranquility spread through his mind and bleed into his limbs and drifting off into peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I really like Kurogane and Kusanagi being friends. I blame [FarrenMaddox's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FarenMaddox/pseuds/FarenMaddox) [Burn Your Kingdom Down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/914571/chapters/1773339) for putting the idea in my head. As well as making me kind of shipping Kurogane X Doumeki. I never would have thought of it, but it totally works and I am a shameless multi-shipper. Maybe one day I'll write something for them. Anyway... 
> 
> 2\. I know nothing about prosthetics and amputations. My teacher is the almighty Google. I also hold to the fact that just as in canon-verse Kurogane has superhuman strength and healing which is why he progressed so unnaturally quickly, coupled with the advanced prosthetic and the healing magic of Nihon. 
> 
> 3\. My reason for Souseki having such a hard time getting the information about Fay and his family is confidentiality concerns, especially in regards to giving the information to a foreigner of a country Celes had just been at war with. He's having to get the information through word-of-mouth from the regular old soldiers rather than through official connections, though he did try that initially. I have a secondary reason for the official route not being successful, but I'm not going to tell you yet.


	5. Painfully Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on time! Anyone getting sick of the slow pace of the story yet? In all honestly, for the next few chapters the progress of time will actually be even slower, although a lot more happens. This is where it should start actually getting good. I'm crossing my fingers.

It took four full days by bus to get to the capitol city of Celes, the infrequent pick-up times prolonging the journey even more than the precarious mountain roads as one went further north. In reality, the country was less than half the size of Nihon but the terrain made travel slow-going and no one wanted to drive at night. Nocturnal creatures of monstrous size and fickle temperament that prowled the slopes could easily damage vehicles and the darkness would make it impossible to see them coming or to spot destroyed portions of the road because of mud and rock slides until it was too late to avoid them. Traveling in Celes, especially once reaching the mountains, was always done during daylight hours meaning Kurogane was forced to spend a few long nights sleeping on the bus or inside the stations when he needed to transfer vehicles, trying to ignore the ache in his back from days on end of sitting crammed in uncomfortably small, plastic seats or stretched out on cold tile floors.

 

Most of the towns up in the mountains were nothing more than scattered, miniscule villages, many populated by less than a couple hundred people altogether who were more worried with working to survive and likely had no free time to travel so on many occasions the bus driver did not even bother slowing down if there was no one waiting at the stop. The communities were perched precariously on whatever flat surfaces could be found on the mountainsides – roads and houses leaving straggled, zig-zagging trails through the crags – or wedged closely together in the cramped and narrow valleys with only a handful of dirt and stone paths leading to the single paved highway that wove through the passes like a snake. Stone walls and tiled roofs blended in seamlessly with the rocks and brush of the landscape, miniature slopes of grey and brown standing sternly alongside their towering brethren and looking like misshapen, infant mountains.

 

Kurogane had long ago grown weary of having to swallow constantly to keep his eardrums from bursting while the vehicles climbed up and down the mountains; by the time the bus parked at the final stop in the capital city, he had decided it may have been better to simply walk the whole way, his muscles sore and weary and his shoulder strained from the stress of traveling and keeping the prosthetic pulled in tight and without decent exercise for days. It was too late to do anything about it now, though, so he pushed the thought aside and looked for a map of the city amongst the plethora of pamphlets scattered around the station.

 

~~~

 

The shop was in a strange location, off the beaten path and a few blocks away from any main streets. It was a quiet road, mostly residential but scattered with a few old buildings, places that had probably once been part of the original downtown area. The stone structures were mostly two-stories high – the second levels being the apartments for the owners of the stores down on the ground. Scattered amongst the newer, single-level houses, the remnants of a previous generation stood tall and proud, the stains and chips on the walls and roofs telling the stories of their fight to endure all change. Kurogane looked at them and saw the shrines of the border cities with their weakened shingles, faded paint, and creaking wooden floors. The shrine maidens did their best to keep them polished and clean, sweeping the grounds and waxing the timber beams and boards. One day, they would probably be torn down and refurbished, but for now the old ones, the priests and priestesses who still understood the value of age protected the worn and weary temples. Just like those holy places, these battered shops were clean and sturdy and cared for, if a little worn and stained, and they told the tales of the history and culture of their country.

 

Phoenix Ink was near the center of the block, it’s blue and gold sign shimmering in the fading of the day and throwing flickering lights over the dusty storefront. The setting sun shone off the white-stone walls and lit the few windows with fire and smoke, flashing and seething tongues of flame. The hooks of the frame holding the sign to the storefront sent a soft creaking of metal echoing down the road. Coupled with the whistling of a chill breeze that was rushing through alleys and around corners, it made the place feel lonely and deserted. Black paint filled the etchings in the background of the metalwork of the sign, forming the shape of a bird in flight, its long tail wreathing up and around the edges in elegant curls. It looked nothing like any bird Kurogane had ever seen before, the graceful neck and tail reminding him of a dragon and of a wreathing, chaotic inferno.

 

The door was thick and solid, a heavy thing framed and wrapped together with wide steel bands but it slid open smoothly on oiled hinges. Inside, the light coming through the front window illuminated a cloud of dust particles and warm oaken floorboards. A couple of reclining chairs and benches were scattered around the space, tables and drawers lining the walls and spilling over with bottles of ink, tattoo guns, cloths and wipes, antiseptic, lotions and creams, trays, brushes, scissors, and even some traditional needles and tools. The walls were completely covered with sketches and paintings from the simplest of black-and-white outlines to elaborate and colorful creations that could have challenged Kurogane’s arm span in size. The artwork was breathtaking, the more traditional pieces skillfully wrought and unique in style from anything the ninja had seen in Japan, something less ancient and refined but just as rich and beloved.

 

He turned slowly, letting his eyes flit from one picture to the next, lingering on those that caught his attention and quickly became favorites. Most were obviously tattoo designs, but there were plenty of portraits, landscapes, and more abstract paintings, pieces that were made for fun rather than as drafts for customers and meant to showcase the artist’s skill. One near the door was lit up by the setting sun and depicted two golden birds dancing in a deep blue sky, a falconer down below looking up at them with fondness as he tugged on a pair of red leather gloves. Another tacked to the front of the counter by the window was of an intricate staff leant against a stone wall; a heavy rain rushed down from the sky and drenched the opaque crystal at its center, dripping from the rigid tips of its wings. It seemed familiar, the geometric feathers on its frame and the rich blue of the gemstones embedded in the burnished metal, but his memory faltered as to where he had seen it before so he pushed the thought aside when he heard someone call out to him from the back room in Celesian.

 

“I’ll be with you in just a moment!”

 

A tall man strode through soon after, straggling curls of long blond hair trailing out from a bandana tied around his head. He was carrying a large box in his arms, tall enough to block Kurogane’s view of his face, and was carefully edging his way around the furniture in the room on his way up toward the front of the shop. It was then that Kurogane noticed the pile of boxes and crates shoved against the wall next to the door, each one labeled with its contents and taped shut. Looking around a second time he saw that the disordered look of the place was because it was in the process of being packed up, all the supplies in the room slowly being migrated into specific locations and inventoried, many of them in the middle of being wrapped up in newspaper or bubble wrap and wedged into the nearest chest. He felt a sinking in his gut as he stepped aside to allow the man to put down his load alongside the other full boxes.

 

The man straightened and turned, a hand braced on his hip and switching to Nihongo. “What can I do for you?”

 

Kurogane almost gaped, barely restraining his jaw from unhinging. Fay had said everyone always had trouble telling him and his brother apart but he had not expected for them to be completely identical in every way – pale, silky hair, sky blue eyes, long and lanky frame, and that bright, broad grin. The only difference was a distinct dullness to his eyes and the length of his hair; if Kurogane had not known better he would have thought it was the same man, just without a haircut since the last time he had seen him.

 

Despite having had months to prepare for this moment he still had no idea what to say, stammering incoherently as he floundered for something besides a moronic “hello,” but not nearly as foolish as “I’m here to tell you your brother’s last words.” What came out was “I want a tattoo,” followed immediately by the urge to slap his hand over his mouth and shove all the words down his throat.

 

The other looked on impassively. “A tattoo?”

 

Deciding quickly to just go with it and worry about the story later, Kurogane nodded hoping he did not appear as panicked and uneasy as he felt.

 

Blue eyes darkened minutely after a moment and the man’s polite, lingering smile slipped off his face, leaving behind a dreadfully blank expression as he turned away. “I’m sorry, but this shop is closed. I’m no longer doing business.”

 

The churning in Kurogane’s gut intensified and he heard _He’ll think it’s his fault… he’ll give up on everything…_ replaying in his head, over and over again. All he could manage was a strangled, “…What?”

 

“I said this shop is closed. Permanently.” His voice was cold, unyielding like the ice and stone of the region.

 

Kurogane felt like there was a rock in his stomach, sinking heavily and making it hard to move. “…I see,” he managed to say weakly. He was loathe to just turn around and leave without putting up any kind of resistance, not to mention there was still the issue of telling the man about his brother, but he was having trouble coming up with an excuse to stay. The ninja’s mind worked quickly and efficiently when it came to fighting and battle strategies but here he was lost. How could he convince a man swallowed by grief and guilt that his plans for redemption were entirely unnecessary and unwanted?

 

He was startled out of his thoughts when the other spoke, looking up to find that the blond was still facing to the side but his expression had changed into something more thoughtful, slightly apprehensive, a tension in the set of his jaw and the crinkles around his eyes. “Maybe…” The fingers on one hand were twitching subtly and his eyes slipped shut on a sigh. “Maybe I could at least do the design work for you. I think I could manage it during my free time, you’ll just have to find someone else to do the actual tattoo.”

 

Kurogane felt his eyes widen, curious as to the reason for the other’s change of mind, but not wanting to refuse outright and lose the opportunity to spend more time with the man. “Are you sure? You look pretty busy…” he trailed off, dragging his gaze around the room pointedly.

 

“I can spare enough time for a sketch,” the blond said. “Do you want to come to the back? We can start discussing options…” He finally made eye contact and Kurogane was pleased to see a spark of excitement emerging on his face, though subdued. It was a bit of what he thought the man really felt for his craft.

 

The ninja grunted an affirmation and followed the other to the back room, his fingers twisting tightly around the handles of his duffle and wracking his brain for a good way to bring up Fay as well as for an idea for a tattoo, since he had never really thought about getting one before. An image of a black dragon snaking its way down a muscled forearm flashed through his mind but he shook his head to dispel the thought. The sight of it on his own arm would probably be more disconcerting than comforting; he would always end up seeing it twisted and broken and covered in blood.

 

The blond was weaving his way around the boxes and shelves that were piled around the backroom and heading toward a door on the far left, beckoning Kurogane to follow him into an art studio. There were a couple of easels of various sizes and designs leaning against the walls and a large desk with a slanted surface filling up the middle of the room. Some stools and multi-tiered rolling shelves were shoved against the table, most of them stained with ink and dust, and papers and drawings were perched in precarious stacks on the verge of slipping to the floor on almost every surface. The other man navigated through the mess gracefully, easing himself onto a stool and gathering up supplies to keep within easy reach. Kurogane sat himself down nearby, pulling out his phone and typing out a quick search in the web browser.

 

“So what are you thinking of?” The man had spun around in his seat to look at the ninja, his gaze direct and his tone professional. “My skills are best with the more traditional tools and I do color well, but I can do just about anything with fairly good results.”

 

Kurogane refrained from snorting, thinking that if even half of the artwork displayed in the shop belonged to the man in front of him then he was seriously downplaying his skill. He ignored the later comments, though, and turned his phone toward the other, a picture displayed on the screen. “Can you draw this?” he asked.

 

Pale fingers reached forward and pulled the phone from the ninja’s grasp, zooming in on the image and turning it over and around to see it from multiple angles. He looked at Kurogane after a long minute. “What is this?” he said, pointing at the photograph of a statue on a pedestal outside a Nihon temple.

 

“It’s called a komainu,” Kurogane said. “It’s a mythological creature of Nihon. They offer protection to their worshippers.”

 

There was a brief pause before the other chuckled softly, his gaze back on the phone. “It looks like a weird breed of dog.”

 

Kurogane felt his face heating up, abruptly wishing he had not chosen what he had, but there was no changing his mind anymore, not after he had already shown the man what he wanted. It was a little unnerving to find that the man had made the connection, albeit unknowingly, though the ninja would probably take the real reason for his choice to the grave if he could help it. He rubbed a hand against his neck, his gaze flitting around the room and away from sparkling blue eyes. “Uh… yeah, I guess.”

 

The gaze was turned back to the ninja, a trace of curiosity revealing itself. “Is there some significance to this, aside from wanting the protection of one of your land’s gods?”

 

Kurogane’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding uncomfortably, and he turned away from the other, marveling at the astute skills of observation that was apparently present in both of the brothers. The ache of missing Fay flared and he resisted the urge to rub his chest, looking down at his feet and missing the way the other man’s face softened during the pause.

 

The blond spoke after a long moment, his tone far gentler than it had been previously. “Sorry. That was personal, you don’t have to answer that.”

 

Kurogane sighed after a moment and shook his head. “No, it’s just… sometimes its hard to think about.” He paused and finally turned to look at the man fully. “It reminds me of someone, that’s all. Someone important.”

 

The blond nodded, expression a little surprised at the ninja’s honesty, but his eyes showed both gratefulness at receiving an answer and respect for his honesty, though how he could know that after only being around the man for ten minutes, Kurogane could not say. The other turned back to the phone and examined the picture again, getting back to the business at hand. “Do you want an exact replica of the statue or something based off of it?”

 

Kurogane pondered the question briefly, brows furrowed. “Something more artistic; just a statue would be boring, but I don’t want anything too complicated.”

 

The man leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t thought much about this, have you?” he asked.

 

Kurogane shook his head sheepishly.

 

The other sighed, a brief sound, but seemed more resigned than upset. “I guess I’ll have to just make a few example pieces and we can go from there, then. Black and white, or color?” He turned toward the table, resting the phone on the lip of the drawing board, and grabbed a pencil.

 

“Uh, mostly black and white, but a little color would be fine.” He watched as the pencil began making clean strokes across the paper, the outline of a komainu face taking shape, it’s lip lifted in a snarl.

 

The blond hummed in acknowledgement, his focus on the work in front him, but he responded with a brisk nod when the ninja introduced himself a few minutes later.

 

“I’m Kurogane.”

 

“Fay. Fay Flourite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Komainu, also known as shisa in Okinawa, are real things, I didn't make it up. There's a heavy debate as to what they are exactly - lions, dogs, something else entirely. They're almost always depicted in pairs but I haven't been able to find much more information on them other than a couple of very brief retellings of myths where they protect the people who worship them or live near them. 
> 
> 2\. I also know next-to-nothing about tattooing. Just the snippets I've picked up from my brother who has them, a friend in college who can create them, and some googling. If you know better and I say anything stupid, let me know. 
> 
> 3\. "Nihongo" is the term in the Japanese language for the Japanese language. It makes morse sense for me to use that rather than "Nihonese" or something. Since Celes is not based off of any particular RL country and is loosely Celtic in my head canon, I'm using the English way of giving names to other languages, hence "Celesian" because "Celesanese" sound stupid. 
> 
> 4\. This is kind of where things are going to get a bit OOC in some ways since this is an AU. I've decided that though Kurogane's past will still be painful it did not affect him as negatively here, he did not end up so violent and angry as in canon. He's a bit calmer, less closed off, and a bit more talkative, though still gruff and a bit rough around the edges. I know it will show and I hope I pull it off while keeping him very firmly still the person Kurogane. THIS Fay has his own personality entirely that will not seem very Fai-like, at least not the silly Fai who usually shows up in canon. I debated for weeks whether I would have him act just the same as the other at first, even taking on his brother's personality, but decided against it for various reasons, most of which are because it is easier for me this way and I'm already having a hard enough time just writing the story in general and in keeping Kurogane as in character as I possibly can. He will be much more like canon-Fai when he is depressed, scared, or hiding something. Think post-Tokyo Revelations arc. 
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, that's all until next week. PLEASE leave me comments, I love them dearly. And kudos, those are always welcome too.


	6. Sketching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... KuroFai week happened... and writers' block.... So..... yeah. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry.

Those who did not know Kurogane well thought that because of his short temper he was also an impatient person. Their looks of surprise - eyes wide and mouth agape after seeing him standing around perfectly still for hours at a time, realization slowly creeping in that he was capable of being extremely patient during the most stressful and/or un-invigorating situations - were some of the most entertaining moments of his life, sometimes even pulling a rare chuckle out of him. Life as a bodyguard required the ability to sit quietly and intently observe his surroundings indefinitely, something most people seemed to forget. Monotony was a trial the ninja was well acquainted with and trained to endure with unwavering focus and unflagging energy. Kurogane had learned long ago to use the time to rest and to think if the situation was safe enough, teaching his body and mind to accomplish all of those things simultaneously while fighting off boredom.

 

Watching Fay plot out a handful of rough sketches of various designs and perspectives was far more entertaining than sitting in a throne room and listening to the complaints of the citizens to their princess about their petty squabbles, or standing watch outside his master’s chambers all night, or escorting dignitaries throughout the day and having nothing to listen to but their jabbering about politics and trivial matters of state. Watching an artist perform their craft was of far more interest, the elegant sweeps of ink and lead across the clean paper and shimmering, eager eyes so beautiful and captivating that it was all too easy to simply dwell. Here, he was quiet because he wanted to be, not because it was required by protocol or safety precautions. Here, he watched with interest because the person in front of him was an unknown, intriguing entity. Here, the topic at hand pertained to him personally and required him to give some input from time-to-time. Here, he was free to let his mind wander in whatever direction it wanted to, since there was no one here he was actively protecting from danger and he was not required to stay alert and attentive. Here, they were free from all attacks but those of the mind.

 

Fay was strangely calm when he drew, Kurogane noticed, though he seemed to be a much calmer person than his brother in general if anything could be discerned from their brief interactions. The magician had been known to have a few quiet moments, times when he would simply _be_ , staring off into the sky or lying back and closing his eyes to hum softly to himself, but for the most part he had been busy, full of vitality, kinetic. He had almost always had something to say, chattering endlessly about everything and nothing and badgering Kurogane relentlessly with questions and jokes and silly observations.

 

This Fay, however, was so still the contrast was unnerving, seeing the same face and eyes gazing down at the sketches so serenely, though with obvious concentration and delight. His face was usually blank, a bland, calm countenance gracing it meaning all his expressions were subtle and more in his eyes than anywhere else. While he drew, his eyes sparkled with the same kind of excitement that any human had for their craft and yet his passion was manifested in the extreme care and caution he brought to his drawing, a control over his body and his words that wasted neither time or energy, unlike his brother who had exuded vigor and enthusiasm like it was his job, laughing giddily and rambling animatedly almost constantly. This Fay spoke softly, caught somewhere between a whisper and a melody, as if he were on the verge of singing a quiet lullaby to a sleepy child. His questions to Kurogane were concise and polite, no unnecessary or wasted words spoken and with just loud enough to be heard by the ninja clearly from his nearby seat, unobtrusive to the peaceful atmosphere of the studio.

 

Kurogane stared at the head of silken blond hair, comparing and contrasting him to the man he had known on the battlefield and wondered why he was already feeling the same sense of fondness for him as he had for the brother who had already been lost. Perhaps it was just an attachment born from his commitment to follow through on an unspoken promise, or maybe just a misplaced affection for the man who looked just like _his_ Fay. In the weeks since he had gotten the information from Souseki, Kurogane had come to the conclusion that what he had felt for the man was far more than simple affection and probably even more than friendship. He had been reluctant to admit it to himself, but Fay had become important to him in those couple of weeks, far more important than almost anyone else ever had, and he was aware of just how meaningful their relationship could have become given the time. Sometimes he thought he was mourning more than just Fay himself, but also what could have been if the man had not been taken so forcibly from him.

 

Now he was left to wonder if he was tacking those feelings onto the blond currently sitting in front of him, if his heart was having trouble believing his brain when it said this was not the same man and choosing to feel something for a stranger simply because he looked the same. Hearing the man introduce himself in the exact same manner as his brother had not helped his confusion and he had been spending the long, quiet moments while Fay drew, organizing his thoughts and trying to figure out if his growing desire to spend time with the man was because of his grief and a desire to comfort himself, or because he was genuinely curious about and wanting to get to know the other man.

 

Kurogane looked at the blond and wondered what his real name really was. Was it “Fay” or was it something else? Which brother was lying about their identity? Was his unorthodox friend from the battlefield the real Fay or was it the living, breathing man in front of him? He felt a stab of anger at the idea that even in the end the magician might not have trusted him enough to give him his real name and yet the same feeling of resentment lodged itself in his throat when he thought that maybe it was the brother that was still alive that was being dishonest. He needed _this_ Fay to trust him if he was going to succeed at convincing him to follow his own dreams, to let Fay’s life and aspirations die with Fay, but there was also a purely selfish desire within him to have the blond’s trust and respect. He may have only been around the man for an hour, but if he were anything like his brother even in the slightest then he was the type of man Kurogane wanted to be around and so he greedily hoped to find ways to be in his presence for as long as possible, but he did eventually resign himself to having to live in ignorance for awhile, at least, hoping that there would be enough time to earn some honesty later.

 

The ninja drug himself up from the quagmire of his thoughts and turned his eyes toward the drawings scattered across the desk, each one getting closer to the type of style that suited Nihon artwork, each rough outline more and more similar to the kinds of tattoos he had seen in his own country while remaining slightly reminiscent of Celesian architecture and contours. Each one was unique – most featuring different angles on the creature and varying backgrounds, color schemes, and general shapes of the drawings indicating what parts of the body they might be embedded on. None of them had much detail, only a basic outline of the komainu body with some scribbles of color and shadow to give the idea of the final product, but they were already beautiful, the skill of the artist overwhelmingly obvious if for no other reason than the speed at which they had been produced. Kurogane sat back and admired the work, contemplating what he liked about each one and figuring out how each element could be combined into a whole.

 

It was more than an hour before Fay put his pencils aside and turned toward Kurogane fully, arms crossed over his chest and posture relaxed. “I made a few sketches of varying types so you could get a feel for what you might want. You can pick and choose elements you like or maybe they’ll give you inspiration for something different. What do you think?”

 

Kurogane leaned forward, ignoring how close he was to the other man, and examined the drawings from up close. He stretched out a hand and tapped at a couple of them in turn. “I like the expression on this one’s face but the rest of it is all wrong. This one has a good stance.” He threw a glance over his shoulder.

 

Fay nodded, his face blank and indifferent but his eyes were sparkling with so much enthusiasm it was stealing the ninja’s ability to breathe. “What about color?” he asked.

 

“I’m… not sure.” Kurogane avoided his gaze feeling conflicted and finding it hard to think clearly while caught up in the other’s gaze. Normally he would have said “red” without hesitation, but shimmering, magnificent blue was swallowing up his vision, washing over his mind in a flood that was drowning out his desire for anything else. But blue was definitely not his preferred color and it was so contrary to anything of his own culture. He took pride in not being weak and pathetic like most people, in being more than ordinary, but he hated standing out in a crowd which was already hard enough with his size and habitual glare; walking around with a vibrant, cerulean tattoo would only serve to make him even more distinct and his brow furrowed in thought.

 

Fay watched him patiently for a long moment and then simply nodded again. “That’s fine, color is usually the last thing to figure out anyway. I can work with what you’ve already given me and try to make a variety of more detailed sketches so we can start to narrow things down to something you like. You can think about it and decide on a color later.” Kurogane leaned back into his own seat and grunted as Fai reached forward to gather up the drawings that were rejected in totality, tossing them into a nearby trash bin, and then neatly stacking together the couple of example sketches and tacking them to a board that hung on the wall. “Those will take me a bit longer to take care of than these drafts did, though, so I may need a day or two,” he said.

 

Kurogane nodded. “That’s fine, I’m not in a rush.”

 

At that, Fay turned to look at him, his eyes brimming with curiosity. “It’s rather strange for someone of Nihon to be so far north in Celes, especially one who has the bearings of a soldier. I find it hard to believe you’re a merchant or a plain old tourist.” His face hardened, the curious gaze turning intense with scrutiny. “Why are you here?”

 

The “ _really?_ ” part of the question hung unsaid in the air, but was obvious from the man’s serious gaze. Kurogane tried not to gape, once again left floundering in the wake of the impeccable perception of one of the brothers. He wracked his brain frantically, unsure how to begin, and almost jumped in his seat when Fay let out a quick sigh.

 

“Ah, never mind.” He flapped his hand in the air, an achingly familiar gesture, and turned apologetic eyes to the ninja. “Sorry, there I go again, asking things that aren’t any of my business.” He smiled, a sad, tiny thing, and sat back down on his stool in a strangely graceful slump. “Just ignore me, you don’t have to answer.”

 

Unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed at being let off the hook, Kurogane could only get out a “Yeah… sure,” while trying to decide if he should explain anyway but Fay changed the subject before he could continue.

 

“Anyway,” he said, “I take it that you’re at least planning on being here awhile. Do you have a place to stay?”

 

He looked up at expectant blue eyes and tried to reorient himself after the abrupt shift in conversation. “Uh… no, not yet.”

 

Fay hummed. “Do you speak Celesian? Do you need any help finding somewhere?”

 

Kurogane smiled a little to himself and switched to the northern country’s language. “No, I can do at least that much.”

 

Blue eyes widened subtly and slowly a lip curled up just slightly in a pleased smile. “How do you know Celesian?” he asked in the same tongue.

 

“I spent a year as a guard for one of the ambassadors to Celes, had to learn a few things. I’m not very good, though, and I’ve been told my accent is really… noticeable.”

 

Fay chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Yes it is.”

 

Kurogane found himself growling, the subtle insult coming from such a familiar voice and face making him forget momentarily that this was not the same man that had teased him for days on end. He cut himself off and shook his head, dispelling the memory of mischievous laughter. “Sorry…” He could feel his face flushing in embarrassment and tried to distract the other from his brief lapse in sanity, turning to Fay with a question of his own. “So how do you know Nihongo?”

 

Fay was looking at him with mild surprise, nothing more than a minute widening of the eyes while his face remained impassive. It was likely from the ninja’s careless outburst, but the expression slowly drained away as he seemed to register the ninja’s question and he became increasingly uncomfortable. “Umm… my… father taught me,” he said shrugging nonchalantly, though he was restless, his eyes avoiding Kurogane and a tentative note in his voice.

 

Something about his discomfort seemed odd – his brief answer, full of hesitancy, making Kurogane suspicious but he was unable to put his finger on exactly what the problem was and without having a better relationship with the man in front of him he could hardly ask for more details. It seemed unlikely that Fay’s discomfort was from knowing Nihongo itself, but rather the source of that knowledge, which made the ninja think there was something off about the man’s relationship with his father. He wanted to outright ask if the man was okay, itching to fix the problem and take away Fay’s uneasiness, but it was not his place; trying to force his way into the man’s life too early would only scare him off so he chose to ignore the rather poor attempt at feigning casualness, merely humming his understanding.

 

The blond seemed to relax when Kurogane accepted his answer without comment, his shoulders slumping minutely. “So you’ll be alright on your own?” he asked, reaching up to slide the bandanna off his head.

 

“Yeah,” Kurogane said. “I wouldn’t mind some advice on a good place to eat, though.”

 

Fay seemed to brighten at that, nothing more than a subtle shift in posture. “I was actually planning on going out for some dinner myself if you would like to join me.” He looked at the ninja curiously.

 

Surprised that he would have the opportunity to spend more time with the man, Kurogane could only grunt an affirmation, but inside his heart was soaring with hope. He knew he needed to tell the other about what had happened, knew that the longer he kept it secret the more painful and difficult it would be to say, but for now he was just looking forward to getting to know the counterpart to the man he had hoped would become a friend. He followed Fay outside, his duffel slung over his shoulder, and prayed that things would go right for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Again, with the tattooing thing. I know nothing. Please offer up your wisdom if I have said something stupid. 
> 
> 2\. Also, on that note, I am aware that even quick sketches by a skilled artist could take quite some time. My personal headcanon is that by the time Fai and Kurogane meet in any universe where magic exists that Fai is always significantly older. It's kind of an assumed and implied piece of canon in the Tsubasa verse that Fai is probably at least in his fifties, maybe even a couple of centuries old, and that remains true in this fic, though I haven't decided a specific age yet. Anyway, Celesian (and Valerian, apparently) magicians are typically long-lived so Fay has had a LONG time to get extremely skilled with his art. Sketches would be much easier and faster for him than the average human who looks to be in their mid-twenties. 
> 
> 3\. I did mention last time that things are slowing down considerably in the story now, yes? This has turned into an absolute monster of a piece and with chapters only being around 3k there won't be much progress update-to-update. I'm hoping that the excessive detail, character development, and extensive delving into Kurogane's thoughts will make up for the slow plot. Bear with me and please be honest it it feels like its dragging. I'll try and cut down and speed things up a bit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more chapters after this one written so I’m just going to post them over the next few days and put this officially on hiatus because I really don’t think I’ll ever get around to finishing it, despite how much I’d like to. I’ve lost a lot of my passion for this story and never took the time to plot it out well so I still have no idea where to go with it.

Walking with Fay to the restaurant was awkward, to say the least. He was quiet, an altogether strange personality trait for Kurogane to adjust to seeing on such a familiar face, on such a familiar body; the man even walked just like his brother, the same smooth, long stride that ate up the ground swiftly with an inherent grace and agility carrying his limbs that was obvious to the ninja’s trained eye. Perhaps he was not a soldier like his brother but Kurogane was rather certain the other man knew how to fight, which made him wonder what exactly their history was. One was a powerful magician while the other was just a tattoo artist, but both likely had decent skills in combat, both knew Nihongo fluently, and yet only one of them had participated in the war. Fay, the soldier, had said that his brother would blame himself for agreeing to switch places, which made it sound like only one of them had to be a soldier but if Celes had enforced a draft why would it have only pulled one of two perfectly healthy young men? The more he thought about it the more confusing it all was, bringing up more and more questions, none of which had answers, not without spilling the truth to the new Fay, the Fay he would have to think of as Fay from now on or his head would just start spinning from all the confusion, neither of which were things he felt ready to do yet.

Strangely, it was that thought that made him remember the gut churning feeling he had experienced barely two weeks ago when he was making his plans to travel to Celes. He had considered putting the trip off until spring and he now realized that if he had he probably never would have found Fay’s brother. The tattoo shop would have been closed and vacated and it was unlikely anyone around the area would have been able to tell him where the other would have run off to. The ninja was suddenly extremely grateful for Souma’s grueling training and frequent reminders to trust his instincts.

He snuck a glance over at the man and watched him for a long moment. Fay walked silently, his feet hardly even making a sound on the pavement and his thick, brown coat swishing quietly in the cold wind that blew through the streets. His face was calm, expressionless, his hands sitting gently just inside his pockets and his gaze resolutely forward, though it seemed unfocused, like he was not really seeing anything in front of him. He was all at once lost in his own thoughts and yet utterly focused on his surroundings, lifting his feet over uneven cracks in the sidewalk, sidestepping stray cats and discarded trash and random passerbies alike, pausing at intersections to wait for the streets to clear of horses and snowmobiles without even glancing around to look at them.

The silence was expected, at first, considering they had met only a couple of hours earlier, but a few blocks into their walk Kurogane was struggling not to fidget. He wanted to get to know this Fay but he had never been good at small talk and with the other Fay’s death looming ominously over him, he was having a hard time thinking clearly. He was in the process of pushing it all down deep into his gut, working up the nerve to spit out whatever came into his head, when Fay spoke up.

He was still staring resolutely forward, his tone bland and uninterested on the surface but with a hint of sincerity. “I’m sorry I’m not able to do all of your tattoo myself,” he said, Nihongo flying out of his mouth fluidly. “If you had come just a couple of weeks sooner I would have had the time.”

Kurogane shook his head, dismissing the apology. “Not your fault. But can I ask why you’re closing the shop?”

At that, Fay seemed to deflate, releasing a quiet sigh, though his back stayed straight, his breath fogging the air in front of his face. He was quiet for so long Kurogane thought he might not answer but eventually his mouth twisted slightly into an approximation of a wry smile. “Let’s just say I finally realized I had to be the responsible one for once. I couldn’t let anyone else take care of all the messes anymore.”

Kurogane looked at him curiously. “Messes?”

“Yes,” Fay said quietly, his gaze redirecting itself to the ground at his feet. “I’ve been… selfish. For a long time, and I decided I had to own up to the bad choices I’ve made. Closing the shop is the first step.”

Kurogane hummed, schooling his expression to one of mild interest and tucking away the sadness swelling in his chest. Despite the deliberately vague responses, it was obvious to the ninja that his Fay was right, his brother was blaming himself for Fay’s death and seeking redemption of some sort but, unfortunately, it was not Kurogane’s place to say anything. Not yet, anyway. If he had his way, though, he would worm his way into the man’s life, much as Fay had done to him, and he would make this Fay know that there was nothing to feel guilty about. He had seen enough sorrow and pain swirling in sparkling blue eyes to last a lifetime. He could not do much, yet, but he would do what he could and offering up a tiny push in the right direction was all he could hope to accomplish. Kurogane turned forward and tried to make what he said sound logical without being arrogant or pretentious. “Well, I guess I don’t know enough about you or your situation to give you any advice, but I think you should at least be sure you’re doing what’s best for you, even if that means still being a little selfish.”

Fay looked at him sidelong, an eyebrow raised in question.

Kurogane could feel a flush rising to his cheeks, having said more than he intended. He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his eyes darting around. “I just mean… if you really have made mistakes, messes that you need to clean up, then you should take responsibility for that. But that doesn’t always mean you have to give up on everything you want. Doing the right thing doesn’t have to mean making yourself miserable.” He looked down at the other and saw that his eyes were twinkling in amusement. “What?” he asked, feeling increasingly embarrassed as the scrutiny continued.

“Nothing,” Fay said, a grin present in his voice if not on his face. “You just don’t seem like the type to give out sage advice to random strangers.”

Kurogane huffed again. “My father rubbed off on me a little more than I thought, I guess. And… I meant what I said. You should think about it.”

Fay merely hummed, turning forward again to stare off toward the horizon and only breaking his concentration upon stopping in front of an open door. He gestured a long arm out to the side and the ninja looked over to see the inside of a small, mostly empty diner, the door propped open by a chalkboard sign with the specials of the day scrawled over it in messy Celesian. “After you,” the man said, following Kurogane into the warm and dimly lit restaurant and finding a booth off to the side. A waitress approached them after a few moments and offered them menus, leaving the two men to peruse them in silence. The two pored over them, Kurogane tapping at a word or two periodically and looking at Fay inquiringly for a translation. When the waitress returned he offered up his order for a plate of roasted meat and potatoes and gathered up the menus while Fay told the woman his own order. She jotted it down and gave them a quick smile before whirling off toward the kitchen.

Fay wrapped his long fingers around the delicate handle of his teacup, bringing it up to his lips and taking a tentative sip. “So what part of Nihon are you from?” he asked, looking at the ninja curiously from over the rim of the cup.

“The capital. I was a guard at the palace until the war.”

“Ah, so you are a soldier.” Blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he realized his early guess had been accurate, a knowing tilt to his lips adding to the expression. “And why did you choose such a dangerous path?”

Kurogane shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “I didn’t, really. It was my responsibility. My duty.”

Fay set his cup down on the table gently, wrapping his hands around the base to soak in the warmth. “What duty?”

Kurogane’s fingers fiddled with his own cup, dragging a fingernail against a scrape that ran through the enamel. “My father and all the eldest sons of our ancestors were Lords of the Western border. We are trained as soldiers for our country and to serve the royal family from the moment we can hold a sword. I was born to fight.” It was a task Kurogane had always longed to fulfill, a dream held close to his heart since infancy. He had always wished to be strong like his father and his desires had not been in vain, his own strength and skill quickly overtaking that of his predecessors and gifting him with the unofficial recognition as the strongest warrior Nihon had ever seen. His only other wish was that his parents were still alive to witness his accomplishments but in the darkest depths of his heart he knew he that if they were he would probably never have become so strong.

Fay’s thoughtful hum broke the ninja out of his reverie. “I had forgotten how fiercely loyal the Nihon people are to their land and their traditions. I have to say, though, you hardly seem the type to follow the rules.” What would have been playful goading from his brother was, in contrast, merely a reflective comment, his gaze calm and steady as he studied the ninja.

Met with honest interest rather than teasing Kurogane skipped over his usual huff of indignation and allowed himself a chuckle, eyes drifting toward the dark wood of the table and feeling self-conscious. “Ten years ago you would have been right,” he said, “although even at my most rebellious I never gave up fighting. I’ve always loved the sword, I just didn’t always use mine properly.”

“Mmm, sounds like there’s a story there,” Fay said, voice curling upward in a question at the end.

Kurogane looked up at him where he had framed his face into a polite smile but his eyes blazed with interest. Part of him wanted to indulge the man, share his past shames and future dreams and maybe forge a friendship with him that he never had the chance to do with Fay. But another part of him was terrified to open up old wounds, to speak aloud the words he had never found the courage to say. He was not sure he could bare himself to the other man so thoroughly, let him see all his fear and sorrow and anger at its rawest, know its origin. Tomoyo knew the basics because of her dreams but he had never told anyone what had happened that day, never revealed how dreadful, how horrific, how agonizing it had been for him.

He wasn’t ready.

His awkward pause dragged out to a long silence and he felt himself slipping away for the first time in years, his gaze straight through the table’s surface, glassy and unfocused, while on the fringes of consciousness Fay sipping at his tea faded into nonexistence. He was lost in a sea of blood and darkness, vacant eyes staring blankly over the twisted, violent figures of his nightmares. The tang of sweat and terror was swamping his memory like a rancid stench. A knot lay on his tongue and behind his teeth, his chest carved out in a hollow cavern. His muscles coiled with tension, fingernails gouging at the flesh of his palms. His body quivered with the effort not to lash out at enemies he knew were no longer present. But he could see them, hear them. The smell of burning skin and earth was tangible in the air, his mind enslaved to his own memories and slowly losing all awareness of the world around him. Blood, so much blood.

He almost jumped out of his seat when Fay spoke again.

“So what was it like, growing up as the son of a Lord?” the man asked from where he was slumped back in his seat and gazing disinterestedly out the window.

Kurogane watched him silently for a moment while he returned to the present, pushing aside the choking smoke and squelching of blood between his toes. He turned to look out the window as well, allowing his mind to drift even farther back to different sorts of memories, ones more pleasant and full of light. “It was… busy. There was always something to learn.”

Fai hummed thoughtfully and Kurogane took it as permission to continue.

“I had a lot of energy as a kid. I couldn’t tell you how many times I got in trouble for falling out of trees or staying out long after dark.” He chuckled softly to himself. “Always made my Father so worried. Mother too, she was just calmer about it. I helped with the stables a lot, the horses. I liked how gentle they were, even when they were playing, so most mornings I would help the grooms brush them down and clean the tack. And I followed my Father around a lot, trying to do everything that he did.”

“You admire him,” Fay said, no question in his voice.

Kurogane nodded. “He was a good man,” he said softly.

Fay turned to look at him and Kurogane turned back as well, the two watching each other across the short expanse of the table quietly, and Fay seemed to understand, seemed to catch the past-tense, even though his expression remained unchanged. “He must have been,” he eventually said, voice hushed and gaze thoughtful as it bored into the ninja’s eyes but he did not say anything more.

The waitress returned with their food, setting the plates down with soft clinks and a cheery smile, keeping Kurogane from asking what Fay had meant. He let himself get distracted by his food, the delicious smell wafting up from his plate reminding him of how long it had been since his last meal. His stomach began rumbling in eagerness and he set about unwrapping the silverware and awkwardly shoveling forkfuls into his mouth, unused to using utensils other than chopsticks. He had swallowed a handful of bites before noticing that Fay was staring at him, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“What?” Kurogane asked, hand paused halfway up from his plate.

“Have you ever used a fork before?”

Kurogane saw the man’s lips twitching and narrowed his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

Blue eyes widened slightly as Fay began to stutter, just a little, in surprise. “What? No, of course not.” A small chuckle escaped his tightly pressed lips and a hand flew up to cover his mouth. “It’s just… you’re holding it so strangely.” His eyes were sparkling magnificently, the skin around them crinkling from where his hidden mouth was likely turned up in a smile.

In other circumstances Kurogane might have gotten angry, or at least sighed in resignation under the teasing, but Fay’s laugh was infectious and so achingly familiar and he had missed it terribly. He was hearing it again for the first time in months and would do anything to keep hearing it, to see that frustratingly blank expression shatter and crack into a thousand pieces and have the light he knew was buried somewhere shine unrestricted. He chuckled a little himself, smiling wryly up at Fay and sharing in the amusement. “It’s been awhile. I was never very good with them anyway.”

Fay chuckled more freely, dropping his hand to show gently curved lips, a smile that was barely visible but was oh so beautiful to the ninja’s starved gaze. “Would you like some help?” he asked.

Kurogane gazed at him for a long moment, eyes roving over his face and soaking in the happy expression, reveling in it and resolving to make it a much more permanent look. “Sure… yeah,” he said. “Help me out.”

Fay stretched across the table and wrapped his hand around Kurogane’s, guiding it into a more comfortable position and explaining where to place his fingers, and Kurogane sat quietly and watched, for the first time in months feeling the hollow place in his chest settle peacefully, contentedly. 


	8. Chapter 8

“You would be surprised how many people don’t realize that tattoo artists can draw and paint. Everyone forgets the art has to come from somewhere.”

Kurogane huffed. Perhaps he had been better educated than he thought but it was hard to imagine how anyone could fail to realize something so obvious. “Do they think that all the customers just get someone else to draw the art for them and then bring it into the shops to be copied onto their skin?”

Fay shrugged. “Some of them. Most are new customers who haven’t really learned anything about it and probably think we just do everything freehand. It only bothers me if they already have pieces but somehow managed to get by without being told anything about the process. Unless of course they simply didn’t care enough to listen.”

“Morons,” Kurogane huffed.

“Maybe,” Fay said, but his suddenly toneless voice and empty expression told the ninja that he was done talking about it. Fay dropped his head onto his fist, his other hand prodding at the remaining food on his plate with a fork and gathering all the scraps and glops of sauce into a pile in the center. Oddly, he grabbed the salt-and-pepper shakers, dousing the plate liberally, before dribbling the remains of his cold tea on top and then stretching out lazily to grab the plates from the bread rolls and dumped the remaining crumbs onto the dish as well. He started stirring, the sludge that resulted looking completely unappetizing.

Kurogane watched on, baffled, as the man continued running his fork through the slop, mixing it so thoroughly it was nothing more than a brown, gloppy mass. “…What are you doing?” he finally managed to ask.

Fay looked up, startled, before flitting his eyes back down to his plate. “Uh… I don’t know, really. I just… mix, sometimes. When I’m finished eating.”

The ninja stared at the man blankly for a moment, looked down at the ooze, then looked back at Fay. “That’s disgusting,” he said.

The man’s passive expression broke for a moment beneath a furrowed brow as he seemed to contemplate this, but he never got the chance to respond. The waitress returned with the bill and gathered up their empty dishes, not even sparing the man’s vomit-esque mishmash a second glance, and wished them a good evening. By the time she had spun off toward the kitchen, plates and bowls balanced precariously on a small tray, the topic no longer seemed important and the two set about grabbing their coats and leaving a few bills on the table for the tip. They paid the hostess for their meals at the front counter, the cold wind that came through the open door grasping at their heels and tingling on exposed fingertips.

Once outside the two paused at the edge of the sidewalk and Kurogane waited to see which direction Fay would walk, wanting to know if here is where they would be parting for the day.

Fay stared unseeingly into the distance for a long moment, as he seemed to do so frequently, before speaking softly. “Would you like me to show you to a place you can stay for the night? I know of a few hotels around here; nothing fancy but they’re nice enough and the fee is reasonable.”

“Sure,” Kurogane said, stuffing his free hand in his coat pocket and pretending he did not feel the pleased smile tugging insistently on the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”

Fay nodded and turned back the way they had come, hands in his pockets and collar turned up against the wind.

It was getting dark out. This late in the day in Nihon everything would have been lit up in liquid gold, the sun just touching the horizon, but here in the mountains that time had come hours earlier when Kurogane had first found the tattoo parlor. Now everything was suffused in grey, the towering peaks throwing everything into premature shadow, though the sky above had stayed brilliantly blue even until they had entered the diner nearly an hour earlier. Now it was shot through with rich purple and pink, the scattered clouds tinged gold from the beams of sunlight that managed to reach that high to the heavens. It graced everything on the ground below into odd hues of softened blue and dusky purple, dim but clear and vivid.

Fay’s hair was an odd blight on the cool scenery, the silken strands glowing faintly in the gloom and shifting with the breeze. His stride was purposeful, focused, but languid and graceful, no haste to his movements; he had all the time the in world to get where he was going.

The streets were quiet, the quickly descending cold of the late evening ushering everyone inside with a firm nudge and brisk pinch to exposed cheeks and noses. A gentle murmuring of voices and tinkling music drifted out under doors and window panes, a dull and soothing hum of noise whispering in their ears as they passed by storefronts and lamp-lit houses. The wind, now colder than ever, still curled down the streets and whistled through the narrow alleyways, creeping up pant legs and snaking down necks and shoulders to dance and prick cruelly over sensitive skin. Kurogane suppressed a shiver and burrowed his chin into the scarf wrapped around his neck.

“If you plan on sticking around for any length of time, you’ll want to find something warmer,” Fay said, soft and melodic in the hushed atmosphere.

The ninja grunted in reply, and nothing else was said.

~~~

The hotel was similar in structure to the shops on the streets of Phoenix Ink, tall and narrow, only a block or two away from the tattoo parlor, but made of rusty colored stone rather than the usual white or grey. The sign was unreadable, messy calligraphy in Celesian script that the ninja could not hope to decipher with his limited knowledge, and faded with age. A single window in the door poured out a flood of inviting, fluorescent warmth that shone off the polished leather of Ginryuu’s sheath and his boots.

Fay stopped just short of the door and turned to Kurogane with a nod. “Here we are. I’ll need at least two days to get a couple of good drafts drawn up, maybe three. There’s still a lot of packing to do so I can’t give it the time I normally would.”

Kurogane nodded. “That’s fine.” He hesitated briefly, before deciding he really had nothing to lose. “Do you mind if I stop in from time-to-time? Just to check in on your progress, but I could give you a hand too, if you need any help. With the packing, I mean.”

Fay watched him steadily, his expression unreadable before he shrugged casually. “If you want.”

“I want,” Kurogane said, before he could think better of it.

Blue eyes widened almost imperceptibly before the indifferent mask swept across his face once more. “Alright. I’ll see you around, then?” he offered.

Kurogane nodded again and watched on for a few moments as Fay returned the gesture and continued on his path down the street, silently pondering just how soon he could get away with showing up at the man’s door.

~~~

Inside was blessedly warm, both in temperature and in ambiance. The wooden floors were dark-stained wood and the walls made of the same rough, red brick as the outside. The front room was relatively small, an open entryway with a rod for hanging coats to the right and a long, dim hallway stretching out directly forward. On the left wall was a door to a small office, a corkboard with random papers tacked on and a scribble-covered whiteboard hanging from it. The inside of the office could be seen through a small window with a ledge to the right of the door, decorated by a single, miniature cactus placed under the glass divider. The light to the office was off but the bell over the door that rang upon Kurogane’s entrance must have alerted the owner who had appeared from an open door at the far end of the building and was walking toward the ninja with a polite smile.

“Hi, what can I do for you?”

“I need a room,” Kurogane said, forcing his tongue into submission around the Celesian words he had barely used in years. “It, uh, might be a long stay.”

“Do you smoke?” the man asked and after Kurogane shook his head he nodded. “Okay. Come with me.” He turned and strode off back down the hall, opening the only unmarked door and turning abruptly to the right, climbing up a steep flight of stairs to the second floor.

The narrow space was rather confining to the ninja’s broad frame and he had to sling his bag around to grasp it upright in his arms to fit. He followed the shorter man up to a door near the front of the building with the digits “205” carved into a plaque while the owner explained how fees and payments worked for extended stays. The owner pulled a key ring from his pocket, flipping through the set and carefully sliding one off before unlocking the door and ushering the larger man in before him after flicking on the light switch. It was small but clean and homey, not as simple as most hotel rooms. The layout was basically the same – a bathroom to the left and a small closet cubby with a mini ironing board, a coatrack, and a mini fridge to the right; a couple of chairs and a round table by the curtained window that overlooked the neighboring house – but there were amateur paintings adorning wood-paneled walls and a vase of fake flowers blocked part of the TV screen atop the dresser, the massive bed was covered in a homemade quilt in warm browns and reds that matched the rest of the décor, and the bathroom was painted and decorated in a similar fashion rather than being the stark cream or white of most hotels.

“You’re lucky,” the man spoke up from the doorway. “This is the only room with a king size bed and it just opened up this morning. Think it will fit you okay?”

Kurogane shrugged. “If I lay diagonally. I’m used to my feet hanging off anyway.”

The man hummed contemplatively. “So you wanna stay?”

Kurogane looked around the room once more, taking in the comforting colors and clean covers, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah this will do fine.”

“Alright,” the man said. He handed Kurogane the key he had removed from the ring. “My name is Keepha. My wife Selme and I live in the apartment downstairs at the back of the building. One of us is almost always around but my cellphone number is on the board on the office door if you ever need something and can’t find us.” He paused and the ninja hummed in acknowledgment before the man continued. “Selme makes a big meal for all the long-term borders every evening if you’re around to eat it – just come to the apartment around six, the door is always open. Also, I’m sure you’re still trying to find your way around the city so let me know if you ever need help finding anything.”

Kurogane was a bit floored by the generosity and friendliness of the owner, meeting the man’s honest gaze and knowing that none of his offers were feigned or exaggerated. It seemed more like he was being treated as a housemate than a customer, especially considering the low fee for the room, but he could not find any reason to doubt the man’s sincerity. He nodded slowly. “…Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Keepha gave him another polite, gentle smile and backed out of the room without another word. Kurogane listened to his footsteps fade away, immensely grateful for the man’s quiet, kind presence and knowing he would become even more grateful in the days that followed.

The ninja slung his bag onto the bed and unzipped it, content in knowing that he would be here long enough to justify unpacking his belongings. His mind wandered as he set his pants and shirts in the dresser drawers and carted his toiletries into the bathroom.

The day had not gone as planned. Not only had he completely neglected his original goal of sharing the mage’s last words, but he was now also supposed to be getting a tattoo. Kurogane supposed that since Fay was only doing the design work and would never know any better that he could simply forgo actually getting the ink. The part of him that had sworn to always be honest was already cringing enough over his failure to tell Fay about his brother, though, and he knew how painful it could be to have the truth kept from you.

It had been nearly two years after the death of his parents before Princess Tomoyo told him she had foreseen what would happen but had failed to arrive in time to prevent the tragedy. Until then he had always assumed that a neighboring village had informed the palace after seeing the fires, that the palace guard had arrived and subdued him in his rage and brought him to the capital. He barely remembered anything from that night but grief and fury and red, red, red. It had been entire days before he woke in a private room and had his nightmares confirmed.

He had not understood the curse of dream-seeing then, had not understood that the future is not so easy to change and that those who see it are doomed to carry the burden of knowing they cannot stop what is to come. The Princess’s confession had angered him so fiercely, hurt him so terribly, his young heart pierced through by the betrayal of his master who had seen, who had heard, who had known the pain that was to come and had not come sooner, not travelled faster, not done something, anything, to save them.

He had been so young. So young and so foolish and it had taken years to understand, to forgive, and to trust her again.

Kurogane stripped out of his clothes, tucking them into his now empty duffel, setting his boots by the door, and resting Ginryuu against the wall at the head of the bed. He turned the shower up high, wanting the heat to warm up after the cold wind outside, and climbed in noting with a pleased hum that the whole room had been designed with tall people in mind and that, for once, he would not have to duck to get under the spray of the showerhead. He washed quickly, lathering up and rinsing off his hair and body with efficiency, and then stayed to soak in the warmth, hands braced on the wall and the spray drumming gently over his neck and shoulders, dripping from the longer strands of his hair and sliding down his legs. Red eyes stared at the water swirling around the drain, tracking the tiny whirlpool that seemed so much steadier and calmer compared to the maelstrom of his thoughts.

If he kept the story secret for too long, especially if he continued to spend time with the man and attempted to build a friendship, Fay would be horribly, permanently hurt. This was too important, too obviously important, for him to be able to pass it off or make excuses for not saying anything about it early on. Kurogane had to tell Fay, had to tell him soon about the real reason for his presence in Celes and at that little tattoo shop in particular.

But he had seen the dead look in the man’s eyes, seen how hollow all his smiles were. Kurogane nearly shuddered when he remembered the icy coldness when the ninja said he wanted a tattoo. That shop had been Fay’s livelihood, his life, and that blunt acknowledgement of his profession had turned the man angry, unfriendly, and closed off to any intrusion. The only reason the topic had been brought up again at dinner was because Kurogane had commented on a painting hanging on the wall at the restaurant. It happened to be a piece Fay had done, purchased by one of the chefs who had been a customer of his previously, and the man told the story of how one of the waitresses had been utterly shocked when she found out that the local tattoo artist could paint such beautiful landscapes. He had seemed amused at the remembrance but his expression had shuttered halfway through the conversation, the emotion draining away until he was doing nothing more than calmly relating a list of facts. He did not want to talk about it, that much was clear.

So far as Kurogane understood it, Fay was abandoning his dream, burying it along with his brother’s body and pretending it was his own. He had decided to live the rest of his life for his brother and was forcing himself to forget what made him who he was; how would he react to the news that everything he was doing was exactly what Fay didn’t want? What would he say, what would he do? And how would Kurogane fit into the picture, what would his role be from there on out, if any?

The water had long run cold before the ninja roused himself from his thoughts, no closer to any kind of solution or decision. He did not feel ready to talk about it all yet but he knew he could not put it off for long. He would need to make a choice and make it soon, especially if he wanted to form some kind of friendship with the man.

He shut off the water and rubbed himself dry, hanging the towel on an empty rod and plodding back into the main room. He pulled back the covers on the bed and slid in, flicking off the bedside lamp and throwing the room into darkness. Maybe it would all be a little clearer in the light of the morning. 


	9. Chapter 9

It was not any clearer in the morning.

Kurogane’s west-facing window leaked in dull, reflected sunlight off the roof of the building next-door, a glare from the only window landing on his eyes with unerring accuracy and rousing him a couple of hours after sunrise. He contemplated rolling over and attempting to go back to sleep but he knew he was too well rested for that. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, going over to open the window and stick his hand out into the chill air to judge the temperature. Clicking his tongue in irritation, he decided that the first order of the day was to go shopping for a warmer coat. Even if Fay threw him out as soon as the news was spilled, Kurogane was going to stay warm until then.

~~~

A young woman with mousy brown hair, who Kurogane assumed was Keepha’s wife Selme, was sitting in the office downstairs sorting through a stack of papers. She looked up when he tapped a knuckle against the windowsill. “Oh, hello. You must be the new guest Keepha mentioned,” she said. “Do you have a few minutes to take care of some paperwork? It seems he didn’t have you fill it out last night.” Her voice was soft and gentle, just like her husband’s, and her smile was polite.

Kurogane nodded and took the clipboard she handed to him, resting it on the sill to fill out the empty spaces with his information. As he scribbled in his signature on the last page he looked down at the woman where she was stapling pages together. “Do you know of somewhere nearby to buy a good coat?” he asked.

She hummed thoughtfully and finished shuffling a few piles together before snagging a blank piece of paper and a pen. “I’m afraid we’re a little off the trodden path here, but there are a couple of shops nearby.” She traded him his finished paperwork for the sheet in her hand, which had a handful of names and addresses written on it in shaky Nihon script. “If you can’t find anything this morning, I think Keepha is making a trip downtown this afternoon if you wanted to tag along with him.”

“What’s that about me?” a familiar voice asked.

Kurogane looked up to see the man himself just entering the front room. Keepha stopped just next to Kurogane and gave his wife a smile.

She smiled back and nodded to Kurogane. “Mr. Suwa here is in need of a new coat,” she said. “I told him that you were going downtown later if he couldn’t find anything around here that suited him. Also,” she added, grinning. “Is there a reason you let a guest stay the night without having them sign the necessary paperwork? Or fill out the applications for a long stay?”

Keepha turned to Kurogane, giving him a long look up and down. “I consider myself a good judge of character,” he said, turning back to his wife with a grin.

She shook her head, smiling. “So are you going downtown later?”

“I am,” Keepha nodded. “In all honesty you probably shouldn’t even bother looking at the shops around here, though. Celesians are taller than most Nihon people, but not as tall as you. You’ll probably need to go to a specialty shop to find something that fits.” He paused in thought for a moment. “Actually, why don’t we just go now, if you want to? I don’t really have a reason to wait until later and this way you can find some proper clothes as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure?” Kurogane asked. “I don’t want to be a… trouble?” he said, struggling to think of the right word.

Keepha shook his head and gave him a smile. “It’s fine. Like I said, I didn’t have a particular reason for planning to go later so there’s no reason not to go right now. I saw what you were wearing last night. You look strong but even you’ll catch a cold if you stay dressed like that for too much longer this far north.”

Knowing when to surrender, Kurogane nodded seriously. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” He turned to look down at Selme and nodded to her as well. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said smiling up at him. “It would reflect poorly on us if we let a guest freeze to death because of insufficient clothing. You should get going, though, if you want to be back in time for lunch,” she said, directing the last comment to Keepha.

The man nodded and headed toward the door. A rush of bitter wind flooded the entryway as he turned to Kurogane. “You coming?”

Kurogane grunted in reply, hunching down into the collar of his coat as he walked out into the cold air. Keepha led him around the side of the hotel to a small garage and the off-roading truck that was stored inside. It was a hulking, sturdy thing with massive tires wrapped in snow chains and a metal cage over the bed. The two men climbed inside and Keepha maneuvered the monstrous vehicle into the road with practiced ease. It was quiet for a few minutes until Kurogane’s hand brushed against the folded note in his pocket, the one from Selme giving him a list of stores in the area.

“How does your wife know how to write in Nihongo?” he asked, shifting to lean against the door of the truck.

“Hmm?” Keepha said. “Oh, well we’ve been traveling all over the world for years. We’ve gotten pretty good at picking up languages when we stay in a place for any length of time.” He switched from Celesian to Nihongo, then, a welcome break to Kurogane’s ears. “We lived in one of the western villages in Nihon a few years back and Selme thought your traditional writing was so beautiful that she spent most of her free time learning it. I never picked up much of it, myself; it was too confusing.” He shrugged, seemingly unbothered with the fact.

“Where are you from originally?” Kurogane asked.

“A small country called ‘Storm,’” Keepha answered.

“Never heard of it.”

Keepha laughed. “Most people haven’t. Do you know where Clow Country is?”

“East. And south. It borders Nihon to the southeast, just below Shara.”

“Mmm,” Keepha hummed. “Beyond the desert of Clow, straight east, is a vast tropical forest and in the middle of it is Storm Country. It’s small, nothing more than a single city and a handful of tiny villages, barely fifty thousand people make up the entire population so no one beyond the jungle really knows of it.”

Kurogane looked at him curiously. “So how did you end up all the way out here?”

Keepha chuckled and shook his head, a fond smile gracing his features. “It’s kind of a long story, actually.”

Kurogane shrugged. “We have time.”

The other man was quiet for a long moment, thinking, before starting his story with a wry smile. “It all started because of youthful stupidity, honestly. There was an old legend in our town that the abandoned temple was still inhabited by a god who granted wishes. I guess I hadn’t really made my feelings to Selme clear so she went to the temple to pray for her own feelings to be returned.” They had pulled to a stop at an empty corner in the road, waiting for an ox-pulled cart to cross the intersection. Keepha let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Unfortunately, all she got was a curse. I caught up to her just as the statue of the temple god shot her through with a bolt of light and told her she had one year to live unless ‘The Twins of Wings and the Twins of Treasure were bound in the Ruins for eternity.’”

The cart had passed and Keepha began driving again, silence falling over the truck’s interior as Kurogane mulled the words over in his head, briefly, and he decided he sucked at riddles. “Well what the hell does that mean?”

“That's exactly what I thought,” Keepha said with another chuckle, though this one seemed a little grim around the edges.

“So what did you do?”

“We left,” he said simply.

Kurogane raised an eyebrow. “You left?”

“Yeah.” Keepha said. “We had to find out who these ‘twins’ were and what ruins the curse was referring to. We looked everywhere, traveled to every country and temple and library we could think of, reading up on lore and myth and legend, hoping to find anything that matched or that could save Selme. It was sheer luck that saved her, though she would say the gods really do look out for us.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I kind of decided I wanted nothing to do with gods after one almost lost me the woman I love,” Keepha said, straightforward and unapologetic.

Kurogane silently agreed; he had questioned his confidence in the beliefs of his own people for years and still wasn’t sure what he believed. “So, what happened?”

Keepha hummed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “We ended up in Clow Country, eventually. We had heard that there was a young archeologist in the castle city who had traveled most of the world and knew a lot of history and legends. We found him and told him our story and he and his fiancée did everything they could to help us. We all became great friends in the process. The two of them are why Selme and I finally confessed our feelings for each other.” He chuckled briefly, before turning somber again. “But, anyway, we were researching frantically but the end of the year was approaching and we still had zero leads. Syaoran and Sakura were getting married just a few days later and she said that if we could not break the curse then we should take advantage of every moment we had left. She asked us to get married with them in a double wedding together.” Keepha shrugged. “It saved her.”

“By getting married?” Kurogane asked, slightly baffled.

Keepha grinned, looking at the ninja sidelong. “Yeah. I was pretty surprised too. Right as we kissed, the mark of the curse on her forehead flared with light and then just… shattered. Selme – she just stared at me for a long moment and then burst into tears.”

Kurogane could see it, the quiet, calm woman he had met that morning finally breaking down from sheer relief, silent tears streaming down her face. He shook his head to clear the image. “But why did it work? Do you have any idea?”

“It took awhile, but we think we figured it out. See, I didn’t mention this before but Sakura and Syaoran look just like Selme and I, like the spitting image of us when we were teenagers. It became the source of a lot of jokes. But anyway, the people of Clow give all their children true names, secret names, and both Sakura and Syaoran’s true names mean “wing.” And, in Storm Country, ‘Keepha’ and ‘Selme’ are words from two different dialects that both mean ‘treasure.’ So they are the ‘Twins of Wings’ and Selme and I are the ‘Twins of Treasure.’”

Kurogane was slowly beginning to catch on. “…so, the ‘bound for eternity’ bit meant marriage?”

Keepha was grinning again, proud and smug as he pulled into a parking lot and searched for an empty space. “Yeah, pretty much. Sakura is actually the Princess of Clow Country and a priestess. She had to be purified and wed in their sacred ruins and Selme accompanied her. We think it was a combination of the purification rituals, which cleansed the curse and made its magic wholesome, as well as the actual fulfillment of the curse’s demands.”

“Do you have any idea why she was cursed in the first place?” Kurogane asked.

“No,” Keepha shook his head. “And it might not even have been a curse, according to Syaoran, considering what Selme prayed for in the first place and how it was lifted. He said ancient magic that lies dormant like that can get stale, polluted you could say, after so long. Some of the components get twisted. So rather than the prophetic blessing it was probably originally meant as, something else lying around probably got twisted up in the god’s lingering magic it and made something darker.”

Kurogane hummed thoughtfully and pondered that for a minute. “But… didn’t the curse kind of break itself? Because if Selme hadn’t been cursed you might never have left your country, so the prophetic part, the one where you and your doppelgangers got hitched, would never have happened. You only left because it sounded like a curse rather than the prophetic blessing it was meant to be; if it had sounded harmless you probably would never have left. So it’s self-fulfilling and self-destroying at the same time.”

“Whoa, slow down there,” Keepha said, chuckling. “It’s too early to get philosophical, I think I’m getting a headache.” He rubbed a finger at his temple as he shut off the car and climbed out, hopping the last few inches to the ground.

Kurogane followed suit, closing the door with a light shove and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. He trailed alongside Keepha as they walked toward the nearest store, what looked like a multi-purpose hardware and outdoor equipment and sports shop. The sun was still shining and the wind here was less harsh and for the first time since Kurogane had climbed off the last bus in the capital he didn’t feel like his nose was going to freeze off while standing outside.

“Do you believe in fate?” Keepha asked, gaze forward and serious.

Startled, Kurogane glanced at the other man, brows raised in surprise before furrowing again a moment later as he thought. “Not exactly,” he said. “Do you?”

“I didn’t,” Keepha answered slowly. “Not before. But everything you just said are the exact same thoughts I had after the curse was broken. I mean, if we had never gone to that temple would we have ever left Storm? Would we have ever confessed our feelings? Gotten married? Would we have met Sakura and Syaoran? If we had ignored the curse would Selme have died or would we all have met before the year ended in some other way? Were we always meant to meet those two, to marry in those ruins? Was there any choices we could have made that would have put us someplace else, changed our lives? Was it all inevitable?” He let out a deep sigh and stopped in his tracks just outside the entrance to the store. It was nearly a solid minute before he looked up again and his expression was far more calm then it had been before. “I decided a long time ago that whether it was inevitable or not I am more than content with the outcome. If this is our fate then I have nothing to complain about really. Maybe everyone does have some sort of destiny, and I know full well that not everyone’s turns out as fortunate as mine, but, well if fate is real and it’s out of our hands anyway then what sense is there in worrying over it?”

“Not everyone can think as practically about it as you,” Kurogane said, thinking of the many countless arguments with Tomoyo over the years and how vehemently he had cursed the gods for the way they ordered his life.

Keepha was humming in agreement, finally moving toward the shop once more. “True. But I can’t do anything about anyone else’s opinion, only my own. They will have to find their own answers.” He opened the door and stood to the side to let Kurogane in first.

Kurogane looked at him for a long moment, reading his expression, searching for hints of uncertainty, of doubt. The only people he had known who simply accepted the concept of fate without either hatred for it or total adherence and reverence to it were Tomoyo and his mother. He had thought it was just a priestess thing; now he wondered if maybe there was something he was missing, some perspective he wasn’t grasping that would allow him to find peace with the idea of having a destiny rather than railing against it with every fiber of his being. It seemed to him that the ones who wished to escape death and destiny the most were the ones who were chased down by both in the most unpleasant of ways; often, those at peace in their hearts and minds were grace with that peace in the form of simple, happy lives.

He wondered if he would ever achieve it for himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented and left kudos on this fic. I’m sorry to anyone who was hoping for the rest of the story but I’ve run out of steam for this and it was a long way from what I imagined the end would be. I never took the time to plot this out well and now I’m stuck without a plan and without any drive, so I’ve put this on indefinite hiatus. Maybe one day I’ll have the energy to finish this.


End file.
